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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28771563">Anchor and Rose.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixth_senses/pseuds/sixth_senses'>sixth_senses</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Death, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lesbian Pansy Parkinson, Mention of Death, Minor death, No Major Character Death, Regulus Black - Freeform, Slow Burn, Slytherin, Smut, Winter, dramione - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:08:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>200,220</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28771563</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixth_senses/pseuds/sixth_senses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Is it really a good idea to run away from war with the person you despise the most?"</p><p>A hotel, A boathouse, Narcissa Malfoy's safe-house, and the world's most powerful wand left behind by Regulus Black.<br/>What else could Hermione add to the list to make her absolutely insane?</p><p>Ah yes, Draco fucking Malfoy. </p><p>ALSO AVAILABLE ON MY WATTPAD (sixth_senses)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>98</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>314</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Disclaimer.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <br/>
  <b> THIS BOOK IS AVAILABLE ON MY WATTPAD UNDER THE USERNAME SIXTH_SENSES </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>I want to throw out some little disclaimers before you read, just to make some things clear and to help your understanding of the story.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>things will be different, such as the dates and times in which things happen, characters' storylines, deaths, etc. This is because I want to write this story without any constraints regarding the original book if that makes sense.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>So if you think I have gotten something wrong, i haven't, i know the original books like the back of my hand but i simply want this to be a smooth story in my own words.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>My TikTok is @sixth_senses and I will regularly be posting edits, interacting and responding to feedback over there.</em> </b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. One.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>By the time Hermione smoothed her hair and fixed her robes, it was nearly noon. The sun had already begun to turn the sky a light shade of orange, speckled with grey clouds that cast a thick smog of shadow across the door through the paneled glass.</p><p>"Are you coming?" A voice pulled her eyes away from the fiery glow in the sky and instead to a bundle of fiery hair that was paired alongside a strained face. "Hermione?"</p><p>"Coming where, sorry?" Her voice was muffled.</p><p>Her head felt fuzzy. It did this a lot these days, since Ron and Harry left a few weeks ago. It went fuzzy like she had been sleeping for too long, like she was confused or dazed.</p><p>She hadn't done anything about it, and she was not planning to.</p><p>Ginny stifled a sigh, shaking her head. "To lunch, Hermione, the food is probably already going cold."</p><p>Her friend seemed agitated. <em>Annoyed</em>, almost.</p><p>"No, no, you go" She knew her voice was shaky, barely audible. "I'm not hungry, anyway".</p><p>This time Ginny didn't bother to stifle her sigh, she sighed loud enough for it to bounce against the stone walls of the dormitory.</p><p>"You said that yesterday. And the day before, and the day before that. You've put your robes on already anyway, so you may as well come and eat."</p><p>Hermione grit her teeth together as Ginny stepped towards her and poked her ribs. "Plus, you're becoming deathly thin."</p><p>Hermione cursed Ginny in her mind before she pushed her away with her hands. The tension between them frightened her.</p><p>The tension between everyone frightened her.</p><p>She knew it wasn't Ginny's fault and she knew it wasn't her own fault either. The fault was stress, worry and the binding unconscious of the looming War.</p><p>"I said i'm <em>not</em> hungry Ginny. I'm going to walk outside for a while to get some fresh air, then i might catch desert." Ginny rose an eyebrow at her words, yet turned to leave down the stairs of the common room towards the great hall. "I'm sorry."</p><p>"I understand that you are stressed, Hermione. We all are. But you <em>have</em> to let life go on."</p><p>Before Hermione could respond, her friend was leaving, disappearing down the stairs without another word. She took a deep breath, trying to not let the tears sting her eyes.</p><p>It's was a joke, really. The amount of times she had cried since returning to Hogwarts. It wasn't how she imagined Winter term, alone without her two best friends. Alone without the comfort of teasing Ron for shoving too many pieces of bread into his mouth, without the pleasure of hitting Harry with a book when he makes a snide remark, without sending glares to their white-haired enemy from across the classroom. It's not the same without, well, everything.</p><p>She was meant to have graduated by now. But the War was rolling on. A year, and nothing. An extra year at Hogwarts.</p><p>The ministry thought it best to continue the studies as Hogwarts was 'The Safest Place to Be".</p><p>It made her feel dizzy again, so she walked, trying to push the thoughts and the memories to the back of her mind, because they were dangerous, so <em>so</em> dangerous.</p><p>Her thoughts were like a fire inside of her, trying to ruin her from the inside out.</p><p>And she knew it would be cold outside in just her robes, but she couldn't find it in her to care. When she eventually stepped out into the courtyard on the south side of the castle, she finally breathed, letting out a stifled breath that she didn't know was lodged inside of her throat during her entire walk across the school.</p><p>"Fuck sake." She mumbled, letting her shoes tumble in the un-kept grass. There was nothing to curse, but it felt fitting to curse anyway. "Fuck this fucking school".</p><p>She continued, mumbling profanities to herself as the grass rose higher and higher up her ankles the closer she got to the black lake. Another thing that was different. It was stupid really, they were <em>wizards</em>. There were hundreds of wizards or witches in the school who could trim the grass with a simple flick of their wand, but no one did. It simply felt wrong. It was Hagrid's job. And that's another person that was not here this year.</p><p>She sat down by the lake, letting the grass rise up against her bare legs beneath her robe.</p><p>"I hate this place." She spoke, looking down at a pink-spotted mushroom that wobbled in the wind. It made her chuckle, just slightly. "<em>Now</em>, anyway. I used to love it here, didn't you?"</p><p>The mushroom didn't reply, of course. But someone else did; soft and clear, like a brush of wind past her hair.</p><p>She barely heard it.</p><p>"I used to love it here, too" She saw her blonde hair before her face and a soft smile spread across Hermione's tangled face.</p><p>Luna sat beside her and for a moment Hermione felt a shred of warmth coarse beneath her withered chest.</p><p>Luna was a fickle friend, some days she was always there, some days she wasn't there at all.</p><p>"Hi Luna, long time no see."</p><p>"Same to you Hermione, you're looking awfully different." Luna stretched a small finger and twisted it through a curl that hung across Hermione's face.</p><p>The ray of sunlight splashed through a crack in the white sky, coating Luna's brown skin in a shred of gold.</p><p>"Good thing or bad thing?" Hermione dodged a laugh, trying to not sound too offended.</p><p>She ignored that the mushrooms dotted around in the grass change from a pink to a dark purple.</p><p>"I'm not sure, to be quite honest with you." Luna replied, dropping her hand to settle in the grass, poking at a mushroom that wobbled beside her thigh. "You're very beautiful Hermione, but the stress is all so evident on your face."</p><p>"I'm okay Luna, really." She was lying. And she knew that her friend knew she was lying. Luna was too soft-willed to argue back. "How are you, Luna?"</p><p>"I have to go away for a while." It was the most rushed Hermione had ever heard her speak, almost like she was afraid to say it. "I am leaving Hogwarts, for a while."</p><p>Hermione pursed her lips. Only now did she realise just how cold they were. They must have been at least a soft shade of blue by this point.</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"I can't tell you, Hermione." Luna's voice was laced with sadness. "I have to visit someone, someone with hair awfully similar hair to myself. That's all i can say, really".</p><p><em>Hair like her own</em>? Hermione frowned, not understanding at all what Luna had tried to tell her.</p><p>She assumed Luna had meant her father. She knew that Luna had her own problems to deal with, and not everyone was consumed by <em>Harry's</em> issues.</p><p>She felt a tad jealous.</p><p>Although she hated to admit it, she wished she could go a day without feeling the guilt and worry of her friends looming (<em>possible</em>) death. How she wished she could be <em>normal</em> for one day.</p><p>But she knew that could never happen.</p><p>She was a witch. And her best friend was Harry fucking Potter; normality wouldn't be present in her life for many years.</p><p>"Will you be gone for long, Luna?" Hermione didn't want to cry again, so she bit down on her bottom lip. She began to taste iron. "Are you heading far away?"</p><p>"I won't be too far." Luna smiled, her eyes scanning Hermione's face with a subtle pressure. "Sometimes, people need to deject themselves from the drama, sometimes people have to run away, to put themselves first, you know? I should go, i have to pack my bag."</p><p>"Will you be in danger?"</p><p>Luna stood, but not before leaning over and pressing a small kiss on Hermione's cheek. "I'm Luna Lovegood, danger always strays far away from me."</p><p>Another person gone, Hermione thought, as the crunch of icy grass rippled through her ear in the silence of the wind.</p><p><em>Another gone</em>.</p><p>She felt even more alone.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione did manage to catch desert. Just in time for a brownie to appear in-front of her on a golden plate. For the first time in a while, she actually wanted to eat it.</p><p>"Luna left." A male voice broke the silence on the Gryffindor table.</p><p>"She <em>what</em>?" Ginny dropped her spoon onto her plate as Neville spoke, splashing hot brownie over her white shirt. "She left? She really left, <em>why?"</em></p><p>Neville shrugged. He seems too sad to respond. It took him a moment to speak. "Same reason as everyone else, I assume. It's not safe here anymore."</p><p>
  <em>She's visiting someone with the same hair as her.</em>
</p><p>Hermione almost said it, but she knew no one would have understood. Hermione did not understand it herself.</p><p>Luna was vague.</p><p>"Great." Ginny sucked her teeth as she spoke. "There's no one left here anymore."</p><p>Hermione nodded as she shot a glance around the great hall. The reason she never came down here anymore was obvious, despite her never admitting it, not even to herself.</p><p>Though, as she looked around, the memories admitted it for her. The memory of her running in excitedly as a first year with her frizzy hair and squeaky shoes, excited for her first grand meal. The memory of her and Harry in third year throwing cake in each other's eyes and laughing about it for hours. The memory is peering over at the Slytherin table and watching Ron give Malfoy a subtle middle finger. <em>It hurt</em>.</p><p>It hurt so much because as she looked around; everything was empty.</p><p>The Slytherin table was the barest of them all.</p><p>And the worst part was, she didn't blame everyone for running away.</p><p>"Excuse me, <em>Ginger</em>, I'm still here!" The Irish accent pulled Hermione out of her daze. "And just be grateful Hermione didn't follow tweedle dumb and tweedle dee on their little excursion as well!"</p><p>Didn't follow them. More like she was <em>forbidden</em>. She bit her tongue to refrain herself from speaking.</p><p>"And besides, Ginny, we can still have fun, even without the rest of the gang!" Seamus continued, but Dean swatted his arm and told him to keep his mouth shut, because he was doing more harm than good.</p><p>"Crabbe and Theodore Nott left too." Neville spoke again, after swallowing down the last of his warm desert. "Surprised they came back for this term in the first place, so it's not a surprise they have bailed."</p><p>"Prat's, they shouldn't have wasted their time coming back without their Golden boy to tell them what to do." Ginny tutted, glaring over to where said Slytherin's used to sit by the fireplace. "Wouldn't surprise me if Malfoy is dead by now anyway. Heard his father is even more insane since leaving Azkaban, probably killed Malfoy <em>himself</em>".</p><p>Hermione felt her heart go funny. Not <em>another</em> death, even if it was Malfoy.</p><p>"When do you think Voldem—"</p><p>"—Will all of you shut it!" Hermione yelled, letting her spoon clang against the golden plate beneath it. Neville swallowed the rest of his sentence. "You think i want to sit here while you guys talk about this stuff? Death? Voldemort? Luna leaving? <em>I don't</em>. So shut the fuck up before i pack my bags and leave too!"</p><p>She pushed her bowl away and headed for the exit, wanting nothing more than to wallow away this conversation beneath her blankets. She shouldn't have lost her temper, actually <em>no</em>, she should have, because she was over it. Being here, around them, without the others. She was over the bitter reminder of happy memories and a doomed future that Hogwarts would give her. </p><p>She was over everyone trying to act like Hogwarts was the same as it was before all of this happened.</p><p>And although she felt guilty thinking it, she couldn't help but be over the fact that <em>everything</em> was about Harry. About war. About Voldemort.</p><p>And that night, she couldn't get Luna's words to stop lingering in her brain, even as the first set of snowflakes fell against her window.</p><p>
  <em>"Sometimes people have to run away, to put themselves first, you know?".</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Two.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A few weeks later, Hermione stood ankle deep in the black lake.</p><p>Her heart was in her throat and her fingers were shaking with force, but she hadn't seemed to notice.</p><p>She didn't care that her bare toes had turned blue against the grit of the shallow lake bed.</p><p>She shuddered, watching the moon puddle from behind a thick cloud, peering over her. Watching her, taunting her.</p><p>Almost asking her, <em>what the hell are you doing?</em></p><p>Though she knew what she was doing. She didn't completely understand why, just that she had to. Her mind had been tormenting her for too long, speaking to her, telling her that she needs to do this, to be <em>peaceful</em>.</p><p>To see the end of things, because it was all <em>too much.</em></p><p>So she stepped forward, until her blue feet met the ledge that dropped into the deep part of the lake, where the creatures lived, where the icy cold of the lake bundled into ice pockets.</p><p>With a gulp, she contemplated it, pursing her lips. She took a look back at the castle, which stood on the rocks, glowing with a strange shade of purple, almost as if the musk from the lake was illuminating it.</p><p>It made her heart hurt, not in the way that makes you cry, but in the way that makes you want to <em>die</em>. Because she couldn't stand there and accept the fact it was going to be destroyed.</p><p>She stepped off the ledge.</p><p>—</p><p>"Wake up! Hermione, Dear Merlin please wake up!"</p><p><em>Fuck</em>.</p><p>Hermione's brain was fuzzy, almost feeling like it's frozen. The same feeling you get when you drink a cold drink too fast, but it hurt much more.</p><p><em>She didn't die</em>.</p><p>She noted how that was rather embarrassing, and she didn't want to open her eyes.</p><p>"Are you awake? Hermione!" She could feel someone shaking her, two warm hands on her brittle skin, one hand just below her collarbone and one on her arm.</p><p>Whoever it was, their nails were pinching her skin.</p><p>"I'm not dead for christ sake's, so please stop shaking me."</p><p>The lights in the infirmary were way <em>way</em> too bright, which felt strange. Although she hadn't spent much time here in recent years, she always remembered her past visits here being dull and feeble, with a subtle brown mist etching through the air, but that was gone now, and everything was <em>too clear.</em></p><p>"You scared the shit out of me!" The voice belonged to someone she didn't want it to belong to. "Merlin what did you do?"</p><p>Don't get her wrong, she loved Ginny, she really did, but since returning to Hogwarts she was growing to... dislike her. Not in the way where you actually <em>dislike</em> the person of course, because it was <em>Ginny</em>, she'd always have a place in her heart for Ginny. Yet in the way she simply wanted to punch her in the nose and tell her to bog off for a few days. Ginny was on her case too much, like she was scared Hermione was going to do something stupid.</p><p>I guess she had been right to think so.</p><p>"I fell." Hermione rushed out, not thinking before the words spluttered out of her mouth. She peered around, squinting, trying to seize up who else was there to listen in on their conversation. Of course, it was empty, par one student sleeping in the corner.</p><p>"<em>Fell</em>." Ginny repeated. Hermione studied her face. Ginny didn't believe her, of course. "You think I'm an idiot? What were you doing at the black lake anyway then, at three in the morning? Hm? Having a little frolic in the water?"</p><p>"Why are you being so cruel?" Hermione unconsciously pulled her arm away from Ginny's grip and stuffed her hands deep beneath the covers draped over her body.</p><p>"You tried to kill yourself." Ginny swallowed, like the words physically bruised her throat, like they fumbled and fed on her lips like it <em>hurt</em>. "I'm not an idiot. I know you are not happy."</p><p>Ginny paused.</p><p>"I didn't try to kill myself, Ginny." Hermione had to pull her gaze away from her friend's face. She looked too hurt, the grey hallows around her eyes far too present and her hair fluffed up in places it shouldn't be.</p><p>There was no use in lying, but Hermione lied anyway. She didn't care enough. "And <em>you</em> found me then? I think my question is what were you doing at the black lake at that time too—hm?"</p><p>Ginny scoffed, like she was offended by Hermione's accusations. Hermione knew deep down that she was being a bitch, she knew it, she could feel the venom on her tongue. But she was not herself—Not since returning to Hogwarts four weeks ago for the Winter term.</p><p>"It wasn't me that found you. Some random student, at the crack of dawn, Madam Pomfrey said the student found you lifeless, floating by the riverbank, your hair all tangled in the weeds. Skin blue." Ginny gulped down a sob. "Announced you dead right before you started spluttering up bile from the lake."</p><p>"Who found me?"</p><p>Ginny sighed, reaching down for her bag. "Pomfrey didn't say—didn't want to, anyway. Here, take this. I have potions in five, but i can stay here instead if you like?"</p><p>Hermione shook her head as Ginny placed a small chocolate bar in her lap. It was Hermione's least favourite flavour, dark chocolate. She could think of nothing worse to eat, the thought made her gag.</p><p>"Go, i'll be fine."</p><p>She wasn't sure if she believed it herself, though. Because as Ginny left, it hit her.</p><p><em>What the fuck, Hermione?</em> Her brain was suddenly yelling at her, making her question everything she had done leading up to this. Hermione was a strong, powerful witch. At least she had thought.</p><p>She had always thought of suicide being the weakest death. Only weak people would commit suicide—too afraid to die another way, to die in sadness or anger or vain. And she shook because she tried to kill herself—Hermione Jane Granger, <em>suicide</em>, the thought bruised her skull like a migraine.</p><p>She scoffed. "You fucking idiot." Only she heard herself. But she needed to say it.</p><p>She told herself this could not happen again.</p><p>She could not reach this level of worry and sadness <em>ever again</em>. She would not die this way, but she did not want to die in the hands of a Death-Eater, or Lord Voldemort either. Her mind and spirit had become lost, the bright Hermione she knew herself as had fickiled into a pile of ash at the bottom of the Black Lake.</p><p>Then suddenly, it hit her once more. What Luna said to her the day she vanished like smoke.</p><p>
  <em>"Sometimes people just have to run away."</em>
</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione didn't know where she was heading. Into the abyss, it seemed.</p><p>Her feet were moving fast, packing things into her rucksacks with great desperation. She was as quiet as a mouse, and the desperate <em>Muffliato</em> she had cast around her four poster bed was a great help. She didn't want to be caught. Didn't want to be seen. Most of all, she didn't want to be stopped.</p><p>Her brain was telling her this was wrong. That she was being weak, running away from her problems and from her friends was <em>weak</em>.</p><p>At the back of her mind was Harry and Ron, always Harry and fucking Ron. They clung to her like glue, even when they weren't there. For all she knew they could've been in Japan, or South Africa, maybe France, fighting the forces of evil without her.</p><p>She scoffed, not that they wanted her help, <em>apparently</em>.</p><p>But she can't help but question what they'll think when they discover she—she didn't want to say running away, but that's exactly what she was doing. Deep down she knew they'd be disappointed, that they'd be worried. Deep down she knew she was going to look like a weak person, but her heart was telling her this was <em>right</em>, that she has to run, has to prioritise herself.</p><p><em>For once</em>.</p><p>By the time her feet carried her outside, her heart was pounding, settled into her stomach like a drum, beating to the point she thought she may throw up. The cold air didn't shock her, just numbed her, which was honestly a good thing. Though, standing there, with her feet sinking in the snow and her backpack straining its weight against her spine, she sighed.</p><p>
  <em>What is she going to do? Where is she going to go?</em>
</p><p>She could not Disapparate from school grounds, and she couldn't just run, because Hogwarts was in the middle of nowhere. Isolated. <em>Hidden</em>.</p><p>She stood for a moment glaring at the sun that was cascaded by clouds and thought hard.</p><p>Hogsmeade.</p><p>She would figure it out once she got to Hogsmeade.</p><p>—</p><p>Once arriving at Hogsmeade, with her face half-covered by the comfort of a warm scarf, she found herself in the back of a kind gentleman's car, which was driving with no instruction from him and simply finding the path by its own accord.</p><p>She wasn't a complete idiot though and kept her hand wrapped tightly around her wand inside her coat pocket the entire time.</p><p>He had asked her name, to which she quickly called herself Penelope Clearwater. Which had been a silly mistake, because the man gruffed out. "<em>Clearwater? I know a few Clearwater's. Are you David or Sarah's daughter?"</em> to which she didn't reply, instead she closed her eyes and told the man she felt too sick to talk. The man didn't speak again, not until they stopped hours later and Hermione realised she must have fallen asleep during the journey.</p><p>So many hours had passed that the sky was black.</p><p>So there she was, hours and hours later, standing outside of a tall, slim, wooded building at least five stories high with her feet buried in the snow once again. She had asked him to take her somewhere she could stay; safe, secluded, muggle or wizard wise and he had brought her <em>here</em>.</p><p>Though it seemed a little sketchy, it seemed—welcoming too. With little orange fire-lights dotted over the brown wood that held the place together, a bare Christmas tree poking out from behind the building and a small swing set beside it. It was on a small hill, above a minuscule lake, or river, she couldn't exactly tell in the dull and foggy weather.</p><p>It was good enough, for now— Just until she found somewhere more permanent.</p><p>Inside was not much different.</p><p>It was cold, even colder than it was outside. The walls were still the same plain brown wood as the exterior, no paint and no wallpaper. <em>Bare</em>. But Hermione kind of liked it that way. Raw.</p><p>The building was so skinny she felt a little suffocated when walking into the front landing, but once again, she kind of liked that feeling in that moment. It felt safe.</p><p>"Hello there Miss, i assume you've arrived here because you need a room?" A man appeared from around the corner, through a gap in the wall.</p><p>Through that gap, Hermione could see a small living room with a dusty sofa and a wooden bookshelf. She wasn't sure where she was, or who else was here. It seemed desolate, like she was the only one for a five mile radius, but as she was about to ask why it was so empty, a small, dumpy woman walked down the corridor and through the gap of the wall, landing on the sofa.</p><p>She turned her attention back to the man, but before speaking, she took in his appearance; A small face, dotted with red spots and rough stubble, with beady eyes the colour of ice. Her eyes travel down to a small name tag hanging on his chest, <em>Stanley Shunpike</em>. She recognised the name, a little too well, and wondered if this was a wizarding establishment after all.</p><p>"What is this place, exactly?" She asked, her voice was small, hidden by her scarf. She could hear the small woman laughing on the sofa, and Hermione caught sight of her head rolling back at something she was reading in a book.</p><p>"Well my dear, this is a <em>hotel</em>!" The man gestured around, like it was obvious. It didn't seem like a hotel, it was too small and too cramped and too plain. It did not look magical at all. "Wizards come here for a few nights while they stop off on their travels."</p><p><em>Wizards</em>. Hermione inwardly sighed. She had somewhat wanted to get away from that world, even for a little while. But she had to take what she was given, so she nodded her head. "Okay, i'll take a room, please."</p><p>"Your name?" He asked, showing a wide smile, exposing his blackening teeth.</p><p>She panicked for a second, trying to think of a reasonable name that wasn't her own, yet she answered after a few moments, calmly. "My name is Katie Bell."</p><p>Shunpike nodded and disappeared for a moment behind the wall, coming back with a notepad and a set of keys. He scribbled something, before dangling the keys in the air and dropping them into Hermione's palm.</p><p>"Follow me, Miss Bell."</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione woke, wrapped up in the small cotton blanket provided to her by the hotel receptionist—which she still couldn't place where she knew him from—and her fingers a soft colour of violet, going numb from the cold.</p><p>Her warming charm must have faded while she slept.</p><p>For a moment, she forgot where she was, she had expected to see the stone ceiling of the Gryffindor dormitory when she opened her eyes, but yet she faced wood planks, half falling down with ice stuck to the edges.</p><p><em>Ah yes</em>, she had ran away.</p><p>She rushed to her feet as fast as possible, feeling like she was going to double over and throw up in the bathroom. Yet she was interrupted by the sound of paper on the floor, cutting the silence of the desolate room with a scratch, and she looked down to see a piece of parchment sitting on the floor by the door.</p><p>
  <em>Breakfast is in thirty minutes.</em>
</p><p>The dining room was much larger than she expected, and she wondered how they managed to fit such a large space, with over twenty small wooden tables, and a small buffet-like area at the front. Reminding herself they were wizards, it suddenly made more sense.</p><p>Breakfast wasn't free, which she spotted from the sign on the dining room door, <em>"</em><em>Three</em><em> gallons for a plate, sorry, we need to afford to eat too."</em></p><p>And breakfast was not what she had expected either, of course, it didn't compare to the never-ending feast of sausages, black pudding, desert and warm tea provided by the elves at Hogwarts, but it was still enjoyable.</p><p>Hermione found herself sitting with a full stomach at a table by the window, with many of the other tables occupied by other wizards. Wizards of all kinds, such as a tubby old man with grey hair who sat by the fireplace and a young beautiful woman with skin the colour of warm beige.</p><p>It comforted her, to see other people, other Wizards, of all kinds.</p><p>She ignored how the wood was rooting into her legs through her leggings and noted she would have to pull out the splinters later.</p><p>"Thank you for the breakfast, it was lovely." Hermione thanked the brittle woman standing by the buffet area, draped in an ivory apron. As Hermione set off to head back into her room for another hour of sleep, she caught the glimmer of the water beside the hill through the window and she thought to ask, "If I don't sound silly, can I ask where exactly I am?"</p><p>The cook's giggle came out as high as a squeak, and it almost shocked Hermione, as the woman seemed so <em>hoarse</em>. "Loch Lomond, my dear, in the forest surrounding Balloch."</p><p>Hermione nodded, she wasn't sure of the place. But she was glad to be here. Far from violence, far from trouble.</p><p>However, as she started to leave, Hermione spotted a figure, sitting by the opposite window in the far corner of the brown room.</p><p>He stuck out like a sore thumb again the oak.</p><p>Draped in Black like a drop of ink on old parchment.</p><p>She squinted. And like a gun, her heart rattles in her chest. Because for a moment—she shook her head, looking down at her feet before turning her attention back to the dark figure, whose hair was as white as snow, flickering with the reflection of the fireplace. It couldn't be. <em>It could not be</em>. He wouldn't be here, in this hidden town, right?</p><p>Standing by the door, one hand on the frame, she squinted again, staring at the back of a frosty-framed head. Her stomach began to feel funny. She couldn't see a face, just the hair, just the broad shoulders beneath a dark grey sweater and the hands that scribble desperately in a book.</p><p>"Don't be ridiculous." She whispered to nobody but herself, and turned on her heels.</p><p>She really needed another hour of sleep.</p><p>—</p><p>A day went by, or maybe it was two. Hermione forgot to keep count. Which already infuriated her, as she told herself to stay as calm and collected as possible, and to keep her mind steady and secure.</p><p>That clearly wasn't working. She knew all of her resting sanity was fizzling out into the unknown, dropping from her brain like a pan of dead flies.</p><p>When she woke, her body shivering and sweating at the same time, she found herself breathing a sigh of relief, because it meant that what she was just encountering must have been another bad dream.</p><p>There were no Death-Eaters here. No Death-Eaters holding her against the window with a wand at her chest, a blade at her throat, carving the words '<em>filthy Mudblood</em>' into her skin like it were chalk.</p><p><em>Just a bad dream</em>, she reminded herself, closing the door to her hotel room and descending down the stairs for breakfast.</p><p>To her surprise, the dining room was a little more full today. Maybe she got here at a better time, it seemed earlier than it was her last visit. She could tell this by the snow that glistened with the residue of the moon and the sun at once, and she could hear the morning call of the birds.</p><p>The woman with soft beige skin sat in the window seat, opposite to the tubby woman who read the book on the sofa when she first arrived. The same tubby woman looked her way, and Hermione caught something telling behind her eye, a story, maybe some wisdom, maybe a warning, but she didn't have time to question it, because the woman sent her a soft nod, and Hermione watched her tight grey curls fall into her eyes as she looked away.</p><p>"Good morning, darling." The same squeaky voice greeted her at the buffet, and the witch with the white apron smiled at her with tired eyes. She seemed cold, her hands shaking beneath her sleeves. "Same again? Beans, toast, and a fried egg, if i remember correctly?"</p><p>Hermione tucked a strand of her hair behind her hair as she nodded. The chef began to plate her food, using a large wooden spoon to delve into the pot of beans and smother them across her bread. It almost made Hermione laugh, because was there anything there that wasn't made of oak?</p><p>"Three gallons then my dear." Hermione parted her mouth as a subtle '<em>oh yes, let me fetch the money</em>' and dove into the cotton bag that swings absently on her shoulder, but she furrowed a brow, because she seemed to have left all her coins but two gallons upstairs in her backpack.</p><p>"I'm so sorry, I only brought these coins with me" Hermione's cheeks grew a coral peach, because she could feel the lingering stares on her back from the few wizards and witches waiting to collect their own breakfast. "Let me just fetch some more, I won't be a minut-"</p><p>Though, there was no time to finish her sentence.</p><p>From the corner of her eye, she saw a thin white hand pushing a golden Galleon across the wooden counter of the buffet with one finger—a boney finger coated in a silver ring, which held a outline of a slim snake with a emerald gem for an eye.</p><p>The wizard had his chest pressed almost flush against her back.</p><p>The smell of his musky cologne made her head feel fuzzy.</p><p>"Oh, thank you Mr. Flint, I'm sure this young witch is very grateful for you paying for her breakfast, would you like the same, Marcus?" The woman spoke awkwardly, looking up at the wizard who stands behind her.</p><p><em>Flint</em>.</p><p>Hermione's head grew fuzzy again, because there was no way Marcus fucking Flint was standing right behind her, paying for her breakfast. Her head also goes fuzzy because she knew that those hands did not belong to Marcus Flint, unless she had perceived him wrongly the few times she had encountered him.</p><p>She remembered his hands being chubby and unattractive, wrapping around his broom with splinters and dirt surrounding his nail-beds. Not slim and boney and so <em>so</em> attractive. Weirdly attractive, and she had to look away from the thin hand that still rest against the counter of the buffet, despite having already handed the money to the chef.</p><p>She was also smart enough to remember that most of the occupants at this hotel were most likely clever enough to not use their real names. Not at a time of looming war, especially if they had something to hide.</p><p>She could feel her stomach bubbling over, like it was full of a thick burning potion that was lured to make her puke.</p><p>Because she was smart, smart enough to think back to the moment she had left the dining room her first morning and smart enough to put two pieces together.</p><p>And when Hermione gripped her plate to spin on her heels to go and find a table, she couldn't help but let it drop from her hands.</p><p>Because of course it was not Marcus Flint with his musky brown hair and thick nose.</p><p>It was Draco Malfoy.</p><p>
  <em>Draco fucking </em>
  <em>Malfoy</em>
  <em>.</em>
</p><p>And as she heard the porcelain smashing against the floor, she caught his eye and she was sure he looked just as confused and concerned as she did. Yet she was not quite sure, because her vision went blank and she went running for the door.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Three.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The floor squeaked beneath her shoes as she stumbled across the small room.</p><p>Her mind was so frantic, telling her; <em>pack this, pack that, was the extension charm big enough to fit your things?</em></p><p>So frantic that she didn't even notice that the floorboards had turned a near ivory because the snow was seeping through the cracks in the ceiling.</p><p>She was too focused on getting out of the hotel.</p><p>Away from him.</p><p>Away from a Death-Eater.</p><p>For a mere moment, she had almost fainted. She had sat on the bed with her head in her hands, chest heaving like her lungs had been torn from her flesh.</p><p>Why was <em>he</em> here?</p><p>She threw a book against the wall in anger. A million questions ran throughout her mind, wondering if he was there to trap her, to take her to Voldemort for questioning on where they could find Harry. Because that's all she was known as; Harry's best friend. Harry's right-hand woman. Potter's Mudblood.</p><p>Without thinking, she heaved her bag-pack onto her back and slid her wand into her pocket, but she didn't remove the tight fist curled around it.</p><p>Without checking the room behind her, she slammed the door, pushing the keys into her pockets to return to Shunpike at the front-desk.</p><p>The corridors felt much narrower than she had remembered and the subtle wonkiness of the brown walls did nothing to help the awful sick feeling in her stomach.</p><p>She rounded the corner, ready to run down the stairs and out into the unknown of the snow, but her body collided with another.</p><p>She cursed Merlin for letting this happen to her.</p><p>Because of course it was <em>him</em>, with his white hair hidden beneath a black hat and bag on his back, just like herself.</p><p>Of course it's <em>him</em>, with his narrow blue eyes and his gauging stare—Of <em>course</em>.</p><p>"Granger." It's the first time she had heard his voice in what felt like years.</p><p>He sounded surprisingly different.</p><p>Almost as different as he looked, but she didn't dwell on it. Instead, she tried to squeeze past him, but it's too narrow which made it too easy for him to grip her shoulders with his palms and push her against the wall, trapping her with a gaze laced with fury.</p><p>"Don't fucking run from me, Granger. Don't you <em>fucking</em> dare."</p><p>She let out a dazed breath, catching the uncertain waters beneath the tone of his eyes.</p><p>"Let go of me." She pushed against him, but it was no use.</p><p>He was too strong, too conceding and too stubborn to let her escape. He had her pressed against the wall in such a way that she couldn't even pull her wand out, because in the midst of colliding with his body, her hand had fallen from her pocket.</p><p>"Stay still for fuck sake before i have to hex you." His eyebrows were furrowed and his forearm rested against her chest. She knew that his other arm, the arm that contained the mark of the Dark Lord, was stashed inside of his pocket, grasping at his wand incase she made any sudden movements. "Who sent you?"</p><p>She cocked her head to the side.</p><p>"Who sent me? I could ask <em>you</em> the same question." She kept her tone as low as his, thick with venom and thick with fear at the same time. "Did <em>he</em> send you? To track me down and have my blood spilled against the snow?"</p><p>And then he was looking just as confused as her.</p><p>He loosened the pressure on her chest, but just for a moment. "Don't play games with me, Granger. <em>Do. not</em>. Who sent you? Was it Moody? Shacklebolt? Maybe even fucking Potter himself. Smart move."</p><p>"Will you stop talking nonsense, Malfoy!"</p><p>She recalled this was most likely the closest she had ever been to his face, minus the day she cracked his nose with her fist. She tried to ignore that she had never noticed the strong, almost putrid smell of his apple shampoo until now, with his face so close to hers in such a demeaning manner that the strands of white hair grazed her forehead.</p><p>"I'm not here to capture you, or kill you, or anything of the damn sort. Don't play head games with me, or i swear on Merlin's grave i will kill you. <em>Let. Me. Go</em>."</p><p>"You think i'm here to capture <em>you</em>?" He seemed almost offended like something had bruised his ego. "You think i'd waste my time chasing a Mudblood?"</p><p>He dropped his arm and stepped back. "Don't flatter yourself."</p><p>She stepped back as well, if that was even possible, so her scalp grazed the rough outline of the wall behind her.</p><p>"Why are you here?" She squared her shoulders as her fingers shook.</p><p>"None of your business." His words were also laced with venom and he hit her with a familiar glare she was far too used to.</p><p>It almost made her smile, in a stupid way. Because it reminded her of the past, when things were just fun and games and not life and death like they were now.</p><p>It reminded her of silly childhood rivalries and nostalgia.</p><p>They stood in silence for a moment. Like two cats, eying each-other up before a fight. "You're not here to kill me? Or send me to get killed?"</p><p>Malfoy scoffed at her question, but she refused to feel small in his presence. She lifted her chin and walked towards him, finally reaching into her pocket to pull out her wand to press it firmly against his chest. "Because why else would you be here, in this fucked up hotel in Balloch?"</p><p>He peered at her wand, then back at her, meeting her eyes for what seems like over a minute, but she knew it was only a few seconds.</p><p>He didn't answer her question.</p><p>"You're running away, aren't you, Granger?"</p><p>It was her time to scoff. She dropped her wand. "Why would you ask me that? I'm not running a—"</p><p>"You are. Miss Granger is running away from The War." It was his time to push his wand against her chest and she was almost certain he could feel her heartbeat surging through the wood and into his palm. "Pathetic."</p><p>And with that, he was gone. He shoved his wand into his black coat pocket and turned on his heels, stomping down the corridor like a large black shadow.</p><p>"You aren't leaving?" Hermione shouted, not meaning for the echo to bounce around the walls as loud as it did.</p><p>He spun around, continuing to walk backwards and raised his hands in the air. He laughed, it was sinister, filled with something dark and lucid that makes Hermione's stomach bubble with... <em>curiosity</em>.</p><p>"What's the point of leaving if we are both here for the same reason?"</p><p>—</p><p>The first time Hermione actually decided to leave the confinement of the hotel to head outside was a few hours later; after she had rested her pounding head—only being able to sleep peacefully after charming her door to not open for anyone but herself.</p><p>The snow was boastful.</p><p>Though it wasn't falling, the wind picked the snowflakes from the ground and tumbled them through the air, letting them sink into Hermione's curls like a comforting hug. Though boastful and somewhat overwhelming, Hermione favoured it. She liked how the brittle weather made her feel like she could finally <em>breathe</em>.</p><p>She walked with no real destination, heading down the hill towards the river, her shoes seeping with wet residue from the snow beneath her steps.</p><p>She stopped at the curve of the hill, noticing a familiar black figure sitting on the snow with his legs crossed, with his back to her like a shield. She knew who it was, from the wide shoulders and the strands of white hair leaking from the black of his hat. He was hardly easy to miss. Her feet continued to travel towards the lake, without her mind telling her to.</p><p>She stopped again, when she was a little closer to the river bed, close enough to see that the water was frozen over and the ice was thick enough to walk on, close enough to hear the pencil scratching against the parchment inside of the book that rested against his knee. Close enough to feel the warming charm cast around his placid body.</p><p>"If you're going to just stand there and stare at me, then bugger off." He spoke, not bothering to glance in her direction.</p><p>Hermione found it hard to respond, so instead, she simply stepped closer, into the charm and let the powers of it wither the chill from her skin and the snowflakes began to fizzle away.</p><p>She didn't know why she was stepping towards him, or why her mind was telling her to speak, because as she looked at him, she felt awfully sick—Sick with hatred and sick with confusion, because she had always wondered why she ended up hating him <em>this</em> much. Always wondered why he was so evil and cruel and why he was so quick to assist the side of Voldemort. So quick to assist in Dumbledore's death and ultimately Harry and Ron's disappearance from her life.</p><p>For that, she would always despise him.</p><p>"Can i help you?" He finally turned his gaze from the pages of his book, to which she could not see the contents, to sneer at her. His eyes were just as full with hate as her own had been.</p><p>Hermione couldn't find any use in responding.</p><p>"Just fucking sit down if you're going to loom over me like a troll."</p><p>She cleared her throat, but sat anyway, ignoring the wet snow that sept through her trousers and onto her skin.</p><p>"I shouldn't be sitting here—with you, I apologise."</p><p>"Then why are you? Come to hex me? Throw me into the water to watch me drown?" Hermione flinched at his tone, so coarse with anger and hatred. His words also let her mind flashback to her lifeless body floating in the weeds of the black lake. she didn't like <em>that</em> image. "You really are such a cunt, Granger."</p><p>"<em>I'm</em> the cunt?" She's shocked was is using such abrasive language. "You're a fine one to talk about being...<em>that</em>, Malfoy."</p><p>He didn't respond. Instead, he closed his book, a subtle invitation for her to keep talking.</p><p>"I'm shocked you are here. I can't really believe it, to be honest. If Voldemort jumped from the ice beneath the river right now i wouldn't even be surprised." He seemed shocked that she had spoken his name. "Maybe you really are here to get me killed. Or maybe you're here because deep down you are too weak to fight for the side you always defended."</p><p>The wind whistled across her eardrums and the warming charm withered for a moment beneath it's strength.</p><p>"Fuck off." He spat back. "I'm weak? <em>I'm</em> fucking weak?"</p><p>He continued before she could respond.</p><p>"Miss Granger, the greatest witch of our generation! My fucking ass the greatest witch of our generation, would you care to explain why you're sitting in Balloch rather than fighting the war with four eyes and ginger bollocks?" She didn't respond that time. "That's what i thought. You're scared."</p><p>She didn't respond again. Instead, she eyed him. He really had changed. She wasn't sure if it was for the better or for the worse, not sure if the way his cheeks had hallowed in made him more rustic and manly or made him look sad and malnourished. Not sure if the dark circles beneath his eyes made him look wise and strong, or brittle and scared. His jaw was stronger too, clenching in time with his rabid breaths, he had lost weight—Though so had she.</p><p>"Maybe I am scared." She finally replied, mostly to break the silence, she felt sick that she was opening up to Malfoy, because she wanted to punch him in the face as much as she wanted to talk to him. "Or maybe I'm not, not that I would be offering to share why."</p><p>"I don't care enough to <em>know</em> why." He responded quickly, a sense of urgency in his tone, like he's afraid of looking like he cared. He turned in the snow, so his face was mirroring her own.</p><p>His eyes flickered with the reflection of the snow that began falling.</p><p>"Do you care about anything?" She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.</p><p>He opened his sketchbook again, ripping out a page, and slammed it against her chest as he stood.</p><p>"Nothing at all."</p><p>He was gone before she could respond, fighting with the snow as he descended back up the hill and towards the wonky hotel.</p><p>She uncurled the paper that has became crumpled against her chest. Other than wondering why the fuck Draco Malfoy has given her anything in the first place, she wondered why she had even spoken to him at all.</p><p>Because on that paper was a drawing, a drawing of a gravestone that read in scribbled charcoal pencil;</p><p>
  <em>"The Golden trio — Died apart."</em>
</p><p>—</p><p>It took a while for her to grasp the fact that Draco was actually here. It took a while for her to grasp the fact that she was actually there too, on the edge of a forest in Snowy Balloch with her belongings stuffed into one tiny room inside a wonky hotel. With a famous Death-Eater, the same Death-Eater that tried to kill her headmaster, the same Death-Eater that was her classmate for all those years, sleeping just a few doors down.</p><p>But it was weird because as she stared at the jagged ceiling above her bed, she couldn't find it in her to loath him <em>enough</em> to run away from him. She hated him of course, with every look and every breath he took, she hated him. But she couldn't find it inside her to, actually <em>hate</em> him enough to leave.</p><p>And most of all, she couldn't help be but curious. What happened to Draco Malfoy to land him in this place?</p><p>Maybe he felt the same way about her.</p><p>She pushed the thoughts away because they've been lingering in her mind since she woke and followed her all the way down to breakfast and sept into her blood like a curse. So she shoved it to the back of her mind as she pushed her beans around her plate like a child.</p><p>"Hello dear." A voice caught her thoughts, the same stumpy woman from the day she arrived leant over her, smiling with white teeth. Which surprised her, because the rest of the elderly woman's appearance was somewhat grimy and full of dirt. Her breath still <em>smelled</em>, though. "Sorry to disturb your breakfast. I couldn't help but think, what lovely lovely hair you have."</p><p>Hermione opened her mouth in slight shock as the woman slipped a finger through one curl that hung on her cheek.</p><p>"Oh, thank you—sorry—I don't know your name."</p><p>"Oh sweatpea, my name is Maureen. Pure-blood born right here in Balloch, small family." Maureen's voice was tentative. Careful. "If I'm correct, Stanley tells me you are Katie Bell?"</p><p>"U-um yes, Katie Bell." Maureen's finger continued to hair pluck through her hair.</p><p>It made Hermione uncomfortable, but comfortable all at once. The lady eyed her, thick brown iris' gliding onto Hermione's face. Hermione tried to clear her throat, a soft warning for her to let her hair go before Hermione threw up from the smell of her breath, which was suddenly wafting into her nostrils.</p><p>"Maureen, I think Katie would like to finish her breakfast in peace." A low voice caused her to pull the finger away from Hermione's hair quickly.</p><p>Hermione grunted when she saw the tall figure standing beside her, sketchbook tucked between the space of his arm and the dark green hoodie he was dawning.</p><p>"Of course Marcus, have a good day." She then disappeared from the room, her dress swishing around her bruised legs before the door closed behind her.</p><p>Draco lingered for a moment, weighing up the situation with a careful eye. But after a moment, the leather from his book cover slid across the table as he sat across from her, elbows placed carefully against the wood planes.</p><p>He didn't speak, nor did she. It was like an unspoken battle, who would break the silence first, who would submit. Though, despite the silence, Draco didn't hide the grove on his face, or maybe it was disgust, fear, or pure hatred for her entire being.</p><p>Hermione thought maybe it was all of those feelings at once, but then again, he always tended to have a look of disgust on his face in her presence. It was nothing new.</p><p>Hermione regretted taking a glance at his face, because he was doing the same, and her eyes met the pools of blue between his nose.</p><p>"You couldn't have chosen someone more interesting to be than Katie Bell?"</p><p>Hermione's eyes danced around the room to make sure nobody had heard, but it was almost vacant.</p><p>"She was interesting enough for you to curse her." Hermione's words stung and she was shocked at the obscene tone in her voice. Her words falter as the faint sound of Katie Bell's scream rang in her memory. "Not like Marcus Flint is more impressionable."</p><p>He scoffed again, a habit of his, Hermione noted. For a moment she thought he was about going to swing open his sketchpad and throw another execrable drawing at her, but instead, he shifted his hands so they were hidden in the sleeves of his hoodie.</p><p>Hermione frowned, she didn't remember Draco being into art, she doesn't recall him ever sketching or painting and she believes this is the first time she's seen him wearing something other than the emblem of his Slytherin robes or his black suit.</p><p>It was all so befuddling.</p><p>"Flint was the first name that came to my head." He argued back. "If they heard the words Malfoy roll from my tongue they would've crucified me on the spot."</p><p>His eyes study Hermione's face for a reaction, but she didn't give him one, this time it was her time to scoff.</p><p>"You say that like you don't deserve it." Her eyes unconsciously rolled.</p><p>They fell into silence again, because what could he respond to that? Maybe he knew she was right, or maybe he was just too arrogant to try and convince her she had been wrong.</p><p>She realised she hasn't touched her food since he sat down, but the thought of eating another bite of the food made her stomach churn and she has to physically squeeze her fists to stop herself from throwing up.</p><p>She still couldn't fathom the fact that Draco Malfoy was sitting across from her, it was almost ironic—<em>Run away, Hermione. Oh, but, have fun handling Draco Malfoy while you're in hiding</em>. She cursed her brain as she placed her arms on the oak table.</p><p>"How did you find this place?" She pushed the plate as she spoke and her voice was almost drowned out by the porcelain scratching against the grooves in the table.</p><p>He rolled his eyes. "A friend showed me the way."</p><p>"<em>Where</em> even where you?" The words spill from her mouth before she can stop them, like an unspoken confession of curiosity and ire all at once. "Attempted to kill Dumbledore and then ran for your life like a child, we all thought you had been <em>killed</em>. It's been nearly two whole years."</p><p>Once again, she couldn't control the words from falling into the air. He looked almost shocked that she would bring up the situation in this rather tense, yet placid moment. She didn't regret it, it almost felt good to finally say, to finally confront him about the problems <em>he</em> had caused.</p><p>It felt good to see a fire crack beneath the ice of his eyes and spread across his features like an exploding furnace. His jaw tensed, and he folded his neck to the side like he was trying to control his temper. It didn't work.</p><p>"You know nothing, you fucking Mudblood <em>bitch</em>!" His hands slammed against the table as they emerge from his sleeves. The word didn't phase her as much anymore, not from Malfoy anyway. "You talk like you were there! Like you watched every moment unfold before your eyes, but you weren't!"</p><p>He stretched out a finger and pointed it at her face like a subtle warning. "You know nothing, Granger. <em>Nothing</em>. So stop speaking as you do."</p><p>She watched his tongue sweep over his bottom lip, maybe a little too closely. Before she could think, she was punching her own hands down against the table, letting the force rattle the fork from her plate to land on the floor.</p><p>"Mudblood this, Mudblood that! Find some new insults for once." Her nostrils flare. "You're a shitty person and I'm sick and tired of you always acting like your not!"</p><p>The tension was too thick, too strong, and too present. She wasn't sure if she could even put a finger on what type of tension was present, because it felt like something new and something confusing like she couldn't control her mind or her mouth and everything in between.</p><p>"You're such a bitch, Granger." His voice was low, contrasting the previous volume. Yet, he sucked on his teeth as he spoke, a gentle reminder of his anger and fury. "I was going to apologise for giving you that sketch, but now you can go and fuck yourself with your own wand."</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes, watching him snap open his sketchbook and rip out another page. She watched him with curious eyes, like a hawk and a doe all at once.</p><p>Merlin this boy was obscene, so <em>fucking</em> obscene.</p><p>He slammed the paper on the table beside her discarded plate, but kept his hand over the drawing as he spoke.</p><p>"I'm not leaving this place no matter how hard you try to drive me away and I'm sure you'll do the same. Just stay out of my way and i'll stay out of yours."</p><p>He lift his hand, dark grey smudges pressed against his palm from the charcoal and exited. The door slamming behind him caused the thin sheet of parchment to fly onto her chest.</p><p>It was a sketch of her hanging upside down above a large black table, occupied with many guests, but he had not drawn the faces. His sketch was messy and hard to decipher, but she could see dark shading to look like blood slashed along her torso, pooling down onto the table beneath her.</p><p>And she didn't miss the smudged writing in the corner;</p><p>
  <em>Ironic, Potter's favourite witch, killed by Potter's favourite spell—Sectumsempra.</em>
</p><p>This time, she couldn't stop the bile from rising, and she was rushing to the bathroom to throw up the reminiscence of her breakfast.</p><p>—</p><p>        </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Four.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione knew it wasn't a good sign when she woke to an old grey bird tapping at the cracks on the window.</p><p>She quickly recognised it's old feathers to be Errol, the owl owned by the Weasley family. She cursed, lurching from her bed to grab the letter that was tied to the owl's leg.</p><p>She took a deep breath, trying to push away her headache before she peeled back the paper to read over the note. Whoever had written the note must have been incredibly shaky, because Hermione had to squint to make out the words.</p><p>
  <em>Hermione. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>I woke to find your cupboards stripped</em>
  <em>. And</em>
  <em> you, and your wand, missing. I don't know where the fuck you are Hermione. </em>
  <em>It is</em>
  <em> worrying me. It's really really worrying me. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>I respect you, and i won't come looking for you, but I don't want to think the worst and that you've done something stupid again and i want to believe you're just clearing your head. Through i, we, beg you, please just come back. We need you here. We need you. Snape has decided to bring the Carrow Twins to become professors. They are hurting us Hermione. But then again, i don't want them to hurt you too. If you have found your way to Harry and Ron, tell them i tell them to stay safe and i love them both. If you can, tell me, us, you're safe. Just please, please don't be dead, and don't get yourself killed. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>— Ginny, Seamus, Dean and Neville.</em>
</p><p>Hermione stopped reading it over and over and over again when the ink began to smudge from the tears falling against the parchment.</p><p>It was too much to decipher within a short span of time.</p><p>Carrow Twins, Ginny worrying that Hermione was dead, or worse, on a mission to get herself killed.</p><p>Hermione's stomach began to reek with guilt, because she couldn't sit and bear the thought of her best friends being hurt and tortured by the two of the most notoriously gruesome siblings to join the Death Eater army.</p><p>For a moment, she began to consider packing her bag and heading back to Hogwarts.</p><p>For a moment, she considered retreating from her plan to escape her life destined for death to comfort those who have comforted <em>her</em> so many times in the past.</p><p>But a knock at the door trapped her thoughts, drifting her back to reality, almost like a subtle reminder—<em>You've made up your mind, you're doing this for yourself.</em></p><p>"Just one moment!"</p><p>And with that, she used her wand to conjure up a sheet of parchment and a quill, because her bag was underneath her bed and she's too exhausted to reach down to scoop it up.</p><p>Even the simplest magic made her bones hurt, and she found her wrist tingling with pain and the reminiscence of the spells for a few moments afterwards.</p><p>
  <em>I am not dead. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>I am not intending to be dead anytime soon. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>Stay safe Ginny. Don't come looking for me. — Hermione.</em>
</p><p>Errol screeched when she attached the note to his leg with the same rope he arrived with. She looked down at the owl and frowned. "I don't know how you found me, but <em>please</em> don't lead them here."</p><p>Of course Errol did not reply. He simply shook the snowflakes from his wings and descended into the dark morning sky.</p><p>She stood for a moment, watching as the owl disappeared into the thick smog of snow that fell to the ground in great bundles of Ivory, coating the river in a soft acrimony.</p><p>She almost forgot someone was at the door until they knocked again. This time they knocked so loudly she dropped the quill she was still holding onto the floor, the black ink staining the wood like a bruise.</p><p>And of course, who else would it have been but <em>him</em>?</p><p>"Care to tell me why Ginger-Cunt's bird was tapping on my window at the crack of dawn this morning, Granger?" Draco pushed past her and stalked into her room with no invitation.</p><p>His eyes were ridden with the fickle reminiscence of sleep. Hermione thought she could see fresh plucks of stubble appearing on his chin, but she couldn't linger her stare—He had stepped closer to her, almost trapping her against the door.</p><p>"W-what?" It was a mistake to play dumb, because he stepped closer, so close her body was trapped against the wood of the door and she was sure she could feel the splinters from the oak loitering into the skin on the small of her back. "How do <em>you</em> know it was the Weasley's owl?"</p><p>He scoffed. Hermione gulped as his breath blew the curls from her face.</p><p>"I can spot those disgusting beady eyes any-day, i always did say that bird reminded me of Prefect-Weasleys ugly face."</p><p>"Please step back." She asked, trying to avoid his gaze.</p><p>He didn't listen, <em>obviously</em>, instead he stepped forward, so the fabric of his black t-shirt rubbed against her pyjamas, and she cringed at the thought of him being able to feel her braless chest against his own. "I-i don't know why he's knocking at your window."</p><p>His hand landed against the door next to her face in anger, sending a crack so loud it could have been considered a gun-shot echoing throughout the room.</p><p>"Did you tell them we were here, <em>huh</em>?" He taunted her, cocking his head to the side to meet her gaze. She hated that she couldn't catch her breath under his stare, and she hated that she couldn't remove her eyes from his lips or stop them from trailing down to where his silver necklace pooled in his collarbones. "I'm not kidding around, Granger!"</p><p>"I didn't tell them anything!" She yelled back, obviously catching him off-guard because his demeanour falters. "He found me, owls are smart creatures and you know that!"</p><p>She nodded towards the note that faltered on the grey bedsheets. He sucked his teeth, looking her up and down before removing his hand from door beside her head and spinning on his heels.</p><p>He wasn't even wearing shoes, or socks. She cringed at how cold his feet must have been against the specks of ice on the floor-boards.</p><p>Hermione let out the breath that was logged in her throat and re-adjusted her pyjamas, following him as he snatched the parchment from the bed so hard he ripped a hole in the corner, taking away some of the ink with it.</p><p>He read it quickly, before throwing it back down on the bed. "And what are you going to do? Run back to Hogwarts to save your friends from the Carrows and tell them all about <em>my</em> whereabouts while you're at it?"</p><p>For the first time in her life, Hermione could hear a sliver of fear beneath his voice.</p><p>It was almost pleasing to the ear.</p><p>"You're scared." She said flatly, moving to be in his eye line, not caring that he looked at her body through a squinted gaze and not noticing his hands balling into fists at his side.</p><p>"I am not scared." But he gulped the words out.</p><p>It was her turn to step towards him.</p><p>"Malfoy is scared." She laughed, but her laugh was not malicious, it was laced with pity. "What are you scared of, hm? <em>Why</em> are you running?"</p><p>He stepped towards her at the same time she stepped towards him, she expected him to pull out his wand and hex her. Or glue her to the wall and torture her like any other Death-Eater would have done if they felt threatened, but instead he closed the gap between them, his cold fingers coming up to push a hair from her face.</p><p>"If you ever, <em>ever</em>, do anything to jeopardise me, i will kill you in cold blood." The hand that pushed against her hair suddenly felt more sickening, like a form of torment and power. So she grabbed his hand with her own, digging her nails into his skin ever so lightly before pushing it back to his own body. "Is this a <em>joke</em> to you, Mudblood?"</p><p>His breath was on her skin, like hot peppermints, and her head was suddenly fuzzy from the smell of his shampoo and his breath mixed as one. The same fuzziness that overtook her brain back at Hogwarts. She had to clench her fists to stop the feeling from making her fall to the ground.</p><p>A harsh and cold tension that was laced with apathy fell between them.</p><p>"For someone who despises my blood so much, you are awfully, <em>awfully</em> close to it." His eyes blinked and they darken as he took a step backwards, like her words were a harsh reminder of what he stood for. "Get out of my room."</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione didn't leave her room again that day.</p><p>Instead, she spent her time sitting on the oak stool by the window and let her finger draw against the snowflakes that had fluttered between the cracks in the glass.</p><p>She hated how weak she felt. Not the same weakness she would have felt staring at a disappointing grade, but a weakness so new to her core it was almost <em>painful</em>.</p><p>There was no strength inside of her to muster up a warming charm, no strength to brush her hair and no strength to wander downstairs and explore her new surroundings.</p><p>She blamed it on her fuzzy brain; refusing to use the word <em>depression</em>.</p><p>She had to remind herself multiple times that night as she stared out at the river, that she was following her heart. This was what felt right—what her body was telling her was <em>right</em><em>—</em>Even if it did mean having to share the same building as Draco Malfoy before she figured out where to go from here.</p><p>While thinking of his presence, she spotted his dark shadow as she stared at the snow from her window.</p><p>He sat by the river again, like he did a few days ago, with his black trousers smudged with snow and his fingers blue with ice. Through it seemed to not faze him.</p><p>He sketched again, hands moving like wind as they scribbled onto the brown pages of his book. Hermione couldn't help but scrunch her face up and pull the curtains across the window, plummeting her room into darkness for the rest of the day.</p><p>She hated how every part of her body wanted to open the window and continue to stare at the desolate river of Bolloch, or maybe it was the temptation of watching Draco Malfoy sketch by the river.</p><p>But she refused.</p><p>—</p><p>"Granger!" Hermione rolled her eyes, continuing to walk towards breakfast—the smell of toast was too incising. "Fuck sake!"</p><p>He gripped her arm, pulling her backwards from the wonky corridor and into a crack in the wall, where he was half-hidden in light and half-hidden in darkness.</p><p>"Wasn't it you that told me we should stay out of each-other's way?" A scoff escaped her throat at the end of her sentence. "What do you want?"</p><p>He paused for a moment. She paused too.</p><p>"Did you take my wand?" He grabbed her shoulders, not aggressively, but with still enough force to make her head smack the wall behind her with a gentle thud. "Did you fucking take my <em>wand</em>, Granger?"</p><p>Confusion scattered over her face and she raised an eyebrow.</p><p>She wanted to laugh, really. She wanted to laugh at his stupid worried face and laugh at how his hands were shaking against her shoulders. Because what use would she have with Draco Malfoy's wand? <em>None at all</em>. She believed her own was more than proficient.</p><p>"No." It was the truth, and she would've hoped he would've believed her at that.</p><p>Nevertheless, he didn't believe her. Of course he didn't.</p><p>As she tried to stride away to finally divulge herself in some food, he grabbed her arm again, spinning her back so she landed against his shoulder before he trapped her between himself and the wall. His hands were digging dangerously hard into the skin on her shoulder blades and for a slight moment she felt... scared.</p><p>His eyes were almost black with rage and his fingers were shaking with so much force she felt he was a bomb waiting to detonate.</p><p>"I told you, if you did anything to mess with me I would fucking <em>kill</em> you." His words were like fire on her skin, and she has to take a deep breath in to stop her head from spinning. "Where. Is. It."</p><p>With a quick intake of breath, Hermione tried to shuffle free but it was no use. She trapped herself even tighter because he stuck a thigh between her legs, lodging her feet to the spot.</p><p>"W-why would i take <em>your</em> wand? It has no use to me." Hermione spat. "I promise you, Malfoy, I do <em>not</em> have it."</p><p>"Fuck!" He slammed his fist against the wall beside her head, but he did not move to free her body, if anything he felt closer. Hermione tried to not listen to his heartbeat against her own. "Granger, if your lying to me then i swear to Merl-"</p><p>"I don't have your stupid wand!" Cutting him off was a bad idea, because he cocked his head to the side in that stupid way he did and sucked at his teeth. Another habit of his, Hermione notes.</p><p>Moreover, he even laughed, a dark chuckle escaping his lips, which Hermione just then noticed were cut and peeled like he'd been biting at them. He moved so his hair freckled against her forehead. Her body is threatening to shudder under his stare.</p><p>"You've probably just misplaced it."</p><p>"Are you questioning my abilities to look after my own wand—hmm?" His head was still tilted so he could bore into her eyes, as if he was studying her, trying to find a crack beneath the surface. "I would never misplace my wand, I'm not an idiot."</p><p>"Not an idiot?" Hermione scoffed. "Are we forgetting the time you got yourself slashed open by a hippogriff? Or the time you cried yourself to sleep because we threw snowballs at you? What about the tim—"</p><p>"Yeah, yeah, I fucking get it." He cut her off. "I may have done stupid things as a child, Granger, but I would never just leave my wand lingering in the snow, <em>especially</em> not now."</p><p>There was a silence for several moments.</p><p>"You really don't have it?" He finally stepped back, letting Hermione stand up fully, but she was still not as tall as him, and he had to glare down at her face to read her expression. "Because fuck knows who could have it, or why, or how—"</p><p>Hermione slapped his arm. he gasped, but he doesn't rage. <em>Surprising</em>, she shrugs, not really being able to read his mood.</p><p>"I told you I do not have your wand, I don't know who has it or <em>why</em>."</p><p>"But wh-"</p><p>"I can't see anyone in this ghostly hotel stealing it from you either." She cut him off, trying to not let curiosity leak through her brain. There were enough things on her brain to send her to psychosis and adding a missing Malfoy-owned wand to her list would be nothing but unhelpful.</p><p>But dear God she couldn't help but be curious. <br/>Why the fuck she should she care where Draco Malfoy's ugly little wand had run off to? She didn't. Though.... <em>she did</em>, and she could help but let the curiosity slip from her tongue and into the gelid air around them.</p><p>"When did you last have it?" She sighed, and stuck her head out of the crook he had pulled her into the check for lingering wizards, but of course, it was empty, so she started to walk, and he timidly followed behind her, confused to where she was headed. "Well I'm not going to stand there in that crabby hole all day and miss breakfast, am I?"</p><p>He scoffed, following her down the stairs that creak under their weight. "You really are <em>still</em> condescending aren't you?"</p><p>"And you really don't want my help by the sounds of it." She scoffed back, eying him before pushing open the dining room door to see every table vacant.</p><p>"I don't need your fucking help, I accused you of stealing it and now you're inserting yourself into the situation like always." He sat at a table, not bothering to order food, but it was close enough to the buffet for Hermione to reply as the chef smiled at her and handed her her plate. "You still act the exact same way you did when you were inserting yourself into four-eyes problems."</p><p>As Hermione set down her plate, she purposely kicked his foot under the table with her boot as she sits down.</p><p>"Without me, Harry would be dead by now. Are you going to answer my question or not, when did you last see your wand?"</p><p>Malfoy seemed defeated by her wit. He must not have been used to her arguing back like this. Hermione thought he almost liked it.</p><p>"Last night, <em>obviously</em>, when I went to bed. I used it to charm my room so nobody could get in uninvited." His eyes filtered around the room suspiciously, but there was nobody there but the chef, who had begun to pack away the food and leave the room. "And before you ask, yes I checked my room, so don't act witty."</p><p>Hermione held up her hands in fake surrender before picking up a slice of toast and taking a bite.</p><p>"So it just vanished, is what you're saying?" Draco sucked his teeth, again, which only made Hermione want to slap his righteous face with her hand and leave to let him figure out his problems himself. "Merlin, what type of Death-Eater can't look after his own wand?"</p><p>The words fumbled out like wind, and she visibly gasped at what she's said once the words linger in the air. Draco frowned, and his fingers balled into fists on the table.</p><p>Withal, she <em>was</em> right and she knew it. It only took one glance down at his arm to know what was lying on his skin beneath it, and she was more than tempted to stand up and walk away and not look back at him, because she knew sitting here with a member of the opposing army was not good for her, for him, or for <em>anyone</em>.</p><p>"Watch your fucking mouth, Granger." His voice shook with venom. "Are you really that much of an idiot?"</p><p>"Malf-"</p><p>"No." He interrupted her, holding up a hand in the air, the table stretching against his ring as he pulled his arm upwards. "Don't play this shit with me. I didn't want your help. I don't need your help, either. So don't sit here and fucking insult me like your some superior being simply because you're on the Order's side."</p><p>Hermione stopped chewing at her toast, swallowing it quickly so she can't retaliate and fire something back, because he made her feel so fucking weak with every word he spoke, and she wasn't going to sit there and listen to him like this—not anymore.</p><p>"Then i won't help you." The bread stuck in her throat, and her words came out croaked and unfeeling. "So go find it <em>yourself</em>."</p><p>"I will!" His voice was so loud she'd be surprised if it didn't wake a sleeping mountain troll. "If i find out this has anything to do with you, i'll drain your filthy blood just like i did in that drawing."</p><p>Then he was gone, storming from the dining room and slamming the door so hard that the specks of ice hanging from the frame tumbled through the air and fell on the floor. Hermione hadn't noticed how cold it really was, and she had to tug at her sleeves to warm her hands and to calm her throbbing heart.</p><p>She ate in silence, alone, and wonders what time it was by now. The sun was midway in the sky, only slightly visible through the cracks in the clouds, and the snow had stopped falling for the first time all morning.</p><p>—</p><p>The day tumbled bye like a drop of salt in an ocean. It's gone within an instant, without anything exciting or anything grand. It was just, a <em>day</em>.</p><p>Perhaps Hermione liked it like this, no extreme drama, no fighting, no screaming or stress or pain, no <em>war</em>. It felt nice to rest her head. To simply listen to the patter of the snowfall against her window for over three hours at once with a book in her lap. And Hermione didn't even notice that the day is over until her book was unreadable because the light from outside had cascaded into a crescent moon, and her room was plunged into darkness.</p><p>And that was how she found herself waking too—in a room of dark, nothing but the fickle stream of moonlight tracing the white sheets around her neck.</p><p>It must've been morning, because the birds had begun chirping beside her window and she could see the faintest query of orange starting to rise behind the trees.</p><p>Hermione's hands shook from the wind seeping beneath the cracks in her windows and landing on her skin. She cursed her magical core for not allowing her to cast a strong enough warming charm to last until morning, because her fingers were turning purple from the cold.</p><p>"Stupid fucking weather." With a huff, she unlocked herself from her bed, letting her feet hit the floor with a thud and padded over to her wand. She cast a warming charm—it faltered for a moment—but then the room fell into a pit of warmth.</p><p>Her wrist tinged for several moments afterwards.</p><p>For a moment, she laughed at herself, because dear lord she hated her brain. She couldn't really believe what she was thinking. She couldn't really believe she was even considering it.</p><p>Hermione shook her head, nope, nope, <em>nope</em>.</p><p>It was too early to be worrying about his problems, too early to even think about investigating the situation. But this was Hermione, she tended to fight against her brain, thinking of countless reasons on why it was a good idea and why her heart was forcing her to pull on her winter clothes and slide on her shoes, carrying her to the open area of the hotel, by the front door.</p><p>It was devoid, of course.</p><p>She was the only soul wandering downstairs and into the cold at six in the morning.</p><p><em>Fucking heart, Why are you doing this to me?</em> The thought lingered in her head as she reaches towards the doorknob, though she didn't have a chance to pull it open.</p><p>"Going somewhere, Miss Bell?" Grasping her chest in shock, Hermione span to meet the face of the hotel assistant, Stanley Shunpike.</p><p>His face was unmissable, his red spots glimmering against the orange glow simmering through the small window by the door. "It's rather early to be heading outside, especially in this weather. Don't you think?"</p><p>Hermione laughed, rather awkwardly, because Shunpike was awfully close to her, and his presence was strange.</p><p>Strange was the only word she could really corrupt, because he seemed half-dazed, like he was still sleeping.</p><p>"I'm just trying to find something." She regretted admitting that once the words left her lips. "Don't worry, I won't be in the cold long, plus, <em>warming charms</em>."</p><p>Shunpike nodded, closing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall. "I see, could i be any use helping assistant in looking for whatever you have...lost?"</p><p>He was definitely acting strange. <em>Very</em>. Hermione was not an idiot, especially when it came to reading character, so she frowns, pressing her hand into her pocket and wrapping around her wand, just incase.</p><p>Before she could tell him not to worry, he spoke again, stepping forward and pointing at her eyes.</p><p>"Your eyes look nice in the sunrise, Miss Bell." He laughed, like what he's about to say is rather humouring, and Hermione couldn't help but feel somewhat frightened. She hoped he was just sleep-walking. "Shining in the sun, almost reminds me of... unicorn hair... shimmering with power and strength, don't you think?"</p><p>What a strange thing to say. Hermione scoffed, but not loud enough for him to hear. "How can eyes remind you of unicorn hair?"</p><p>He glared at her, but turned on his feet like he had said something he shouldn't have.</p><p>"...Think about it."</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione's knuckles almost split from the force she was pounding at the wood with.</p><p>"Open the door!" She yelled, not caring if the other occupants of the hotel could hear her.</p><p>There was no reply, so she pounded on it even until it is opened. Draco scowled at her through tired eyes.</p><p>"Is there a reason you are smashing my door at this time, Granger?" He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, and Hermione let her stare linger against the silver ring on his finger.</p><p>She took a deep breath before speaking, but not before gasping at his appearance. She had clearly woken him, because his hair was pointing in several different directions and his voice was laced with the croaking sliver of sleep. She didn't even want to think about how much his black sleeping attire must have cost.</p><p>"Have you found your wand yet?" She asked quickly like the words were punching her throat to get out.</p><p>He rolled his eyes like it was an obvious answer.</p><p>He didn't reply for a moment, instead headed back into the room, glancing over his shoulder as an empty invitation for her to step inside as well.</p><p>His room mirrored her own, a small bed made of wood with white sheets, a cracked window, and a small wooden dresser beside the mattress. It was much cleaner than her own, which shocked her just momentarily.</p><p>"Clearly not, I would've hexed you by now if i did." He almost seemed to be joking, but Hermione didn't have time for his jokes. It was <em>her</em> at risk just as much as him. "Why?"</p><p>"What is its core? I can't seem to remember."</p><p>He sat on the edge of the bed, rolling his eyes as it shook and threatened to break with his weight.</p><p>Everything in the hotel was near broken.</p><p>"You don't remember?" He scoffed, eyeing her as he spun the ring around his finger with his other hand, Hermione perched herself on the edge of the dresser, careful to not let her entire weight fall against it. "I'm offended, <em>really</em>, I would brag about it during class all the t-"</p><p>"I'm being serious!" She didn't mean to yell, but she did, and her voice echoed through the room like a broken cry.</p><p>His fun expression was clearly only momentarily as he seemed to take in Hermione's shaken state and the seriousness in her tone.</p><p>He stared at her for a few moments before speaking. </p><p>"Unicorn hair."</p><p>Hermione grunted. "<em>Fuck</em>."</p><p>"Why is that important, I'm rather confused Granger and if you don't spit it out i'm going to hex you with my fist-"</p><p>"Stanley approached me this morning, acting rather strange, mentioning unicorn hair." Hermione paused, trying to piece the words together in her own mind before speaking, she ignored the way Draco has cocked his head to the side again. "I thought it was rather curious, seeing as unicorn hair is a type of wand core and i was on my way to look for your wand."</p><p>Draco held his hands up, like he was asking her to pause. He looked confused, rightfully so.</p><p>"I'm sorry but who the <em>fuck</em> is Stanley?"</p><p>Now it was Hermione's turn to be confused, because everyone here must've known the assistant, he welcomed the guests every morning.</p><p>"The hotel assistant, Stanley, with the spots and cockney accent. I definitely know him from somewhere, can't put my finger on it —but that's not important, i don't get why he would be talking about wand cores, at a random time like tha—</p><p>"His name is Ronald, not Stanley." Draco interrupted her again. Hermione spotted he has curled a fragment of his white sheets into a ball inside his fists. "His name tag says '<em>Ronald King</em>', am I right?"</p><p>Hermione stood from the dresser, beginning to pace around the room as confusion and dizziness began to overtake her brain.</p><p>"No, Malfoy, <em>Stanley</em>. It says Stanley, introduced himself to me as Stanley the first day i arrived. Stanley Shunpike." She shook her head. "One of us is wrong, anyway, it's not important, what's important is that he knows somethi—"</p><p>Hermione didn't realise Draco had stood from the bed until he was gripping her shoulders.</p><p>"Repeat his full name." He was ordering her, not giving her a chance to breathe because his nails were digging into the bare part of her skin above her shoulder blades. "<em>Now</em> Granger!"</p><p>"Stanley Shunpike." She fired back, lacing her words with as much venom as his own. "Will you calm down?"</p><p>"Are you fucking dumb, Granger?" He was yelling now, releasing her shoulders with a gentle shove as he moved towards the wall. For a moment she thought he was going to punch it. "He was conductor for the Khightbus-"</p><p>"Ah! I knew I recognised him from somewhere, Harry explained to me a while ago about—"</p><p>He interrupted her <em>again</em>, his voice was quiet but full of stress. Full of worry. "He's not conductor anymore—fuck he must have used a charm to confuse us, with the name tag—"</p><p>"Will you <em>calm down</em> and explain what relevance this has?" Hermione stamped her heel against the floorboard. Draco stopped pacing. "I'm getting annoyed, if he's not conductor anymore then why the hell is that a problem and why are you so worried about it! We just need to figure out why he was being so weird about your wand."</p><p>The room was silent after her words and she watched Draco step towards her once more.</p><p>"He's not a conductor anymore, he's a <em>Death Eater</em>."</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Five.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione's hands begun to shake.</p><p>She caught Draco staring down at them, like he was worried she was going to explode any second.</p><p>"A Death-Eater, Malfoy?" Her voice was strained, barely audible. His hands were still on her shoulders absentmindedly, not like neither of them paid it much attention. "I-I have to get out of here."</p><p>"<em>You</em> need to get out of here?" Draco scoffed, finally releasing her shoulders. He stepped back to lean against the wall. "He's probably here for <em>me</em>, fuck Granger, <em>fuck</em>, he's here for me."</p><p>Trepidation rumbled through Draco's body like poison.</p><p>Hermione could see his muscles tense, his fists curl and a trickle of worry itching at his brow. For a moment, she almost pitied him. <em>Almost</em>.</p><p>"Calm down!" Hermione didn't mean to yell so loud. But she did. "What did you do, Malfoy?"</p><p>He looked rather confused, so she continued. "What did you <em>do</em> for them to come after you? Why are you so worried?"</p><p>Hermione's chest was hammering with the pulse of her heart, because so much dread and fear had begun to leak through her veins, but she had to remain calm, she <em>had</em> to.</p><p>Not only for her but for him too.</p><p>As much as she didn't want to—she was still Hermione. A Gryffindor with Gryffindor tendencies. Always help this around you—no matter what.</p><p>"What do you fucking think I did, Granger? You really are thick." His words were like toxin. "I disobeyed the Dark Lord, that's enough reason for him to get my head perched on a stick with a snap of his fingers."</p><p>Bile filled Hermione's stomach at the thought.</p><p>"Many Death-Eaters are under the Imperius Curse, am I right?" Hermione stopped pacing, not even noticing her feet had been moving in the first place.</p><p>Draco stepped away from the wall, so he can hear her better, because her voice was so quiet it was hardly perceptible.</p><p>"What? Why is that relevan-"</p><p>Hermione slapped his arm. Again. He really was frustrating, most of all, <em>selfish</em>. He was too busy panicking about his looming struggle that he couldn't even stop for one minute to listen to what she had to say.</p><p>"Because if he's under the curse, maybe we can question him. To talk some sense into him." Blood was rushing to her head, trying to work out all the possible safe scenarios. "Therefore we can retrieve your wand, then we can find somewhere else to run to."</p><p>He gulps. "We?"</p><p>Naive Draco, always <em>so</em> Naive.</p><p>"What, you think you can run from Death-Eaters alone? You can't even protect your own wand from getting stolen." She regretted her words because he stepped towards her again. <em>Again</em>. And Jesus christ she was getting sick and tired of him coercing her back against the wall and she was getting sick and tired of the sickly smell of his shampoo wafting through her nostrils when he was this close.</p><p>"And why aren't you letting them take me? The Granger I knew would've let them rip me to shreds in front of her very eyes." His finger taunted her, trailing down her cheek.</p><p>The Draco Malfoy she remembered from school would have never even placed a finger on her skin.</p><p>He was confused, she reminded herself as she coughed out a breath lodged in her throat. She was also confused, she reminded herself. <em>You're just doing this to stay alive</em>, she tells herself.</p><p>"I'm not helping you, you inconsiderable twat." She tried to push him away again, but like each and every-time she found herself sandwiched between his chest and the wall, he didn't budge. "I'm doing what I have to do to stay alive and that might mean making sure you keep that stupid head of yours attached to your neck."</p><p>Sucking his teeth, again, he releases her and her knees dropped slightly as her back slid against the wall.</p><p>"Fine." He sneered, running a hand through the hair that had freckled onto his forehead. "Let's go get my wand, Granger."</p><p>—</p><p>Of course, the plan wasn't thought out. Not <em>well</em>, anyway.</p><p>Time was a virtue—on Draco's part—It had taken him a while to calm down and to come to his senses. Hermione believed she had never seen him look so forceless. So angry and venomous and corrupt.</p><p>He was like a volcano waiting to erupt.</p><p>And Peace was written on the doorstep In lava.</p><p>All they needed to do was escape.</p><p>Their plan landed her sitting on the sofa in the small living area of the hotel, the one she spotted on the first day but did not have the chance to explore. It was a small room, consisting of brittle bookshelves, smog, the small sofa and a coffee table. But other than that, <em>nothing.</em></p><p>It felt strange, like it wasn't meant to be there.</p><p>Their plan had landed Draco sitting beside her, his hands shaking in his lap beneath his pine-coloured hoodie. Was it anger or fear making him tremble? She assumed anger, because his eyebrows were folded so heavily he looked as though his face could've cracked.</p><p>Luckily, she could see out into the opening area of the hotel, the same area in which Shunpike had approached her that same morning with his strange eyes and brittle words.</p><p>The same area that flipped her short-lived serenity on its back.</p><p>"Good morning, Miss Bell, Mr Flint." Draco nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a voice wafting through the living space. "I didn't know you two were so well... <em>acquainted</em>."</p><p>It was Maureen, in a black dress and black heels. She shot  Hermione a tight-lipped smile as she stumbled over to the bookshelf, pulling out a novel with a hard-back cover and opening it.</p><p>Hermione didn't reply, as she was too busy peering out at the open area waiting for Shunpike to arise.</p><p>Maureen faded into the background, her and Draco both forgetting about her presence.</p><p>Draco's shoulder brushed against her own. It was almost comforting—until she reminded herself of who the shoulder <em>belonged</em> to and her body unconsciously moved to create a gap between their skin.</p><p>Not long after Maureen's arrival, Hermione could hear the familiar patter of steel-capped boots against the floorboards. Moments after Shunpike was drifting through the corridor, his eyes focused on a sheet of paper that was crumpled between the scars on his fingers.</p><p>"Malfoy, he's there."</p><p>Draco grunted and went to stand, fury radiating from each and every inch of his body. Hermione's mind didn't think twice before she was grasping his thigh and pushing him back into the plush of the sofa, scolding him with her eyes as if to say; <em>stick to the plan, dickhead.</em></p><p>Instead, Hermione cleared her throat and stood, wafting towards Shunpike like wind. She clearly caught him off guard when she appeared before him, because his fingers faltered against the paper and he was shoving it into his pocket.</p><p>"Morning again—" Hermione glanced at his name tag, and scowled when she read it correctly. Stanley Shunpike. She remembered that he has been charmed to outsmart them. "—<em>Stanley</em>."</p><p>"Miss G-Miss Bell." She caught his mistake.</p><p>Clear as day, and she wanted to smack herself in her head for being so clueless to his strange demeanor before now. His eyes darkened, like he had caught on that she had noticed. "H-How are you this morning?"</p><p>"I thought about what you said, unicorn hai—"</p><p>But Hermione cannot continue, because her voice was interrupted by a croaked, scared, "<em>G-Granger</em>" coming from the living room.</p><p>She regretted looking. She had to breathe in through her nose and count to three to stop herself from being sick.</p><p>Maureen had her arms wrapped around Draco's chest, a blade pressed against the flank of his throat.</p><p>"Oh, Miss <em>Hermione Granger</em>." Maureen spoke, but her voice was different, cold and her accent was gone. Now, her voice belongs to someone she did not resemble. "I was wondering how long it would take for the pair of you to catch on."</p><p>Draco struggled in her grip, but she held him tight, pressing the silver blade that twinged with jade as pressed it to his neck. Hermione gasped as she watched a small trickle of blood slide down his throat.</p><p>"We are surprised, <em>Mudblood</em>. We only expected to see Draco here, but I'm sure the Dark Lord will reward us greatly for bringing the both of you." Shunpike talked now.</p><p>Hermione was too stunned to move. She had to move. She had to do something—she couldn't let Draco die on her hands, <em>she couldn't.</em></p><p>No matter how much she would've love to see him pay for his mistakes. She couldn't let him die—not now, anyway.</p><p>Hesitantly, Hermione stepped forward as Stunpike rounded her to stand beside Maureen. To her relief, Maureen pushed Draco away from her, so he landed on the floor by Hermione's boots</p><p>He stumbled up quickly, grasping at Hermione's shoulders for stability.</p><p>His hands trembled against her skin. Rattling like a bomb waiting to detonate.</p><p>She whispered a small "<em>Calm down</em>"—but she's sure he hadn't heard her.</p><p>"Unicorn hair." Shunpike croaked. Hermione's eyes fell to Maureen, who was suddenly twisting Draco's wand in her fingers.</p><p>Hermione recognised it quickly. She had secretly always admired the sleek design of his wand—it much smoother and orderly than her own, just like Draco himself. Two shades of hawthorn wood, with a small ledge to indicate the handle.</p><p>"is this what you were looking for, Draco?"</p><p>"Expelliarmus!" Hermione was yelling out the spell before she even had a second to think about it.</p><p>She caught Draco's wand in her hand before shoving it into his chest.</p><p>The aftermath of the spell continued to tremble in her wrist for a few moments longer than usual.</p><p>"Silly bitch!" Now, the persona behind Maureen's voice was clear as day.</p><p>And with that, Maureen's thick grey curls darken in colour, suddenly resembling the feathers of a raven. Her clean white teeth suddenly darken to a yellow.</p><p>It was not Maureen, a "<em>Pure-Blood Scottish witch from a small family</em>" like she had told Hermione.</p><p>It was Bellatrix Lestrange. </p><p>"Draco, you need to stop these stupid games and join us." Her voice was ridden with malice. It sent shivers down Hermione's spine and fumbled in her stomach like weeds. "<em>Now</em>, before the Dark Lord decides to not welcome you back to our side with such forgiving arms. Don't be silly Draco, listen to your aunt Bella."</p><p>"Fuck off." Draco's hand wrapped around Hermione's wrist like a handcuff, so tight she thought her bones were going to snap in half.</p><p>The last thing she remembered was seeing was Bellatrix's blade oscillating towards her like a bullet.</p><p>The world was spinning for no more than three seconds, until her feet landed on a ragged path with the sound of a crack. He had apparated them to a small field, covered in a thick blanket of snow.</p><p>"Malfoy?".</p><p>Hermione's voice came out as a whisper as her eyes fired towards the stain of red on the white snow, leaking from the blade stuck inside Draco's chest.</p><p>—</p><p>With a huff, Hermione dapped a small cloth against Draco's bare chest, careful to not press too hard against the open flesh wound just beside his collarbone.</p><p>He winced at her touch, like her skin was stitched together by lava and ice.</p><p>"Stop moving around or you're going to made the wound worse." Hermione's voice was small. It ghosted the skin on his collarbone.</p><p>He didn't reply, except from grunting and shuffling against the wall he was perched against. It wasn't a suitable location, not at all. It was a snowy road, deep into a woodland where she could not see anyone, or <em>anything</em>. Not one house, not one soul. Though Hermione thought that was a good thing, after the incident that had just occurred.</p><p>She hadn't even had time to stop and think about it, so she didn't. Maybe that's a silly idea, to pretend it didn't even happen, but she doesn't care. Not anymore.</p><p>"It fucking hurts." His voice was malled, as though it was painful to talk. "So if you would care to stop pressing on it like it's a flaccid dick and actually use your wand to help me, that would be amazing."</p><p>Staring up at him, she gawked. She really couldn't believe he would still act so cruel, so rude and so malicious, even when her knees were buried three feet into the snow so she could inspect his injury. Even when she had put her <em>own</em> life on the line to protect <em>him</em>.</p><p>For a second she questioned herself, wondering what the point of it was—for he was Draco Malfoy and she was Hermione Granger and this was not natural.</p><p>It was perplexing.</p><p>"You realise if i use my wand to stitch the wound then I could be trapping poison, a curse, maybe even venom into your veins, right?" Hermione scratched the rag against his skin.</p><p>Even in a moment like this, she was grateful she was the smart one and had actually put her bag on her back before heading towards the living room of the hotel, thus having the equipment for an emergency like this. Unlike Draco.</p><p>"Stop being such a pussy and let me fix it, Malfoy."</p><p>With the palms of his hands, he shoved her away.</p><p>Her elbows found themselves landing in the snow before she scrambled to her feet, suddenly aware her warming charm was fading as she could begin to feel her teeth chattering. Draco stood too, dragging his hoodie from the ground, shaking the snow from it and pulled it over his head, wincing as the material rubbed against the hole where the blade had landed.</p><p>Hermione had let her eyes wander to her forearm to land over the <em>mark</em>.</p><p>It made her feel sick, sitting there on his porcelain skin like a bruise.</p><p>"I'm being a pussy? Are you shitting me, Mudblood?" He stepped towards her, his boots crunching in the snow. "You aren't the one who just had your own aunt throwing a knife at you, aiming for your neck!"</p><p>He stomped away, heading nowhere. There was nowhere to head.</p><p>For a moment Hermione felt defeated and let him walk.</p><p>She watched his shadow-like frame blur between the slush trees—like a drop of ink on clean-white parchment.</p><p>And for a moment, she was glad to see him go. Though he didn't continue for long. He stopped at the edge of a clearing, turning on his feet so viciously Hermione could hear the snow wither beneath his boots even from where she was stood.</p><p>"Are you coming or are you just going to stand there like a twat?" Draco yelled, so loud his voice echoed across the open white vicinity of where they were stood.</p><p>Thinking was a curious thing. A dangerous thing. And Hermione was doing too much thinking, too much wondering. Too many <em>what if's</em> running through her mind, tormenting her decisions, her occupancy, calling herself a traitor but also a warrior all at once. She stares at him, wondering what the hell she was thinking.</p><p>She had ran away for freedom of war. Yet she was stuck in a new one.</p><p>"Suit yourself! If you want to stand there and get killed, be my guest." His words were a warning, but Hermione could see his hands shaking beside his hips. Maybe he was cold, or maybe he was just scared of being alone.</p><p>Maybe he believed being alone would be worse than being alone with her, a Mudblood. Something he loathed, something he had been raised to hate.</p><p>She picked her bag from the ground and began to walk.</p><p><em>Stupid fucking brain</em>. So fucking stupid.</p><p>"Oh, so you are coming." Draco scoffed as she caught up with him, silently striding at his side as they walked. "What made you change your mind, the thought of being slaughtered out here alone?"</p><p>Gritting her teeth, she let her fingers wrap around the straps of her backpack to control her anger. Anger would solve nothing, nothing useful, anyway.</p><p>"I could survive without you." She deadpanned, catching a glimpse of his eyes pouring against her face for a moment before looking back at the path in-front of them. "<em>You</em> wouldn't last two minutes alone."</p><p>"I fucking hate you, Granger, i hope you know that." The words were meant to taint her, but instead, it filled her with joy. Because it felt normal, <em>usual</em>, like the old times. "But they know we were together, if we split now, one of us is <em>bound</em> to be killed."</p><p>He paused for a moment.</p><p>"So just shut up." He continued. He rounded a corner in the path, and Hermione gasped, watching the cold land meet its end against a percolate sea, stretching for miles with no end. "Don't make me hate you even more than i already do."</p><p>"Where are we?" She asked as they reached a set of stairs, leading them down to where the sea began. It was almost hard to see, because the snow had created a strong fog in the air, thick like smoke. But it was there, she could hear the waves crashing.</p><p>"Exmouth." A large wooden boat came into view on the harbour and Hermione could just make out the sign on the side. <em>Free Stay For Four Night</em>s. "In Devon, a small town, it's the first place I thought of."</p><p>Before she could reply, Draco was speeding up, so fast she almost struggled to keep up with his pace. He walked so fast that within seconds he was climbing a set of stairs and knocking against the door of the boat.</p><p>As she caught up with him, finding her feet stumbling against the cracked panels beneath her feet, she took a second to grab her senses, work out where she was. It was hard to see, because it was probably only eleven in the morning still, and snow was falling down over them.</p><p>But she could see and hear the sea. She could see the soft speckles of light coming from windows of houses in the distance. She suddenly didn't feel so alone.</p><p>"You'll need to think of a new name." Draco spoke, as a jangle of keys were heard from behind the door "A proper name, not the name of somebody that you know."</p><p>Before she had chance to respond, he pulled out his wand, whispering something beneath his breath. Though she cannot hear the spell, she can <em>see</em> it.</p><p>And Merlin did it catch her breath for a moment, a sick fickle moment, where Hermione swore she could feel her hands tremble against the straps of her bag—Because Draco's snowy white hair darkened, turning into a shade so black that the snow falling against it was actually visible.</p><p>It complimented him—his pale skin and blue eyes. With his dark frame and strong shoulders, with his sharp nose and round lips. She wanted to hit herself, because for a second she didn't even notice his wand pointing towards her, until she could see the strands of hair falling in her eyes turning black too.</p><p>There's was no time to argue with him, because the door of the boat swung open, <em>finally</em>, after what seemed like hours standing on the broken panels above the water.</p><p>"Good evening." It was a gentle old man, with his short legs tucked into welly-boots and his wide stomach hanging over half-dressed dungarees.</p><p>Hermione tried to seize the question of wizard or muggle, but she couldn't quite place it.</p><p>"How can i help the two of you? Looking for a place to escape the blizzard I imagine!"</p><p>His laugh was hearty, it reminded her of her Grandfathers.</p><p>"Obviously." Draco deadpanned, Hermione elbowed his ribs to tell him to <em>shut the fuck up.</em></p><p>"Is this a hotel?" Hermione asked the question's, much to Draco's annoyance. She could see him rolling his eyes without even taking a glance at him.</p><p>"Somewhat, a small safe-house, if you wish to call it." The man nodded. "I'm Graham, I own the boat, I take in travellers in exchange for some company, it can get rather lonely here in Exmouth, especially for a fisherman."</p><p>"I'm so sorry to hear-"</p><p>"Can we just have a room?" Draco interrupted her with a gruff tone. "My balls are about to fall off from frostbite."</p><p>Luckily, Graham just laughed, like he found his humour <em>more</em> than funny. Hermione knew he was not intending to be humorous, but she allowed it.</p><p>They enter the boat. And dear God did Hermione want to faint. In a good way.</p><p>The first thing she noticed is the strong, <em>strong</em> smell of something cooking, fish stew, it smelled like. It makes her stomach rumble too loud she nearly mistook it for thunder.</p><p>She also couldn't ignore the multiple candles speckled around, a small coffee table, with a small sofa beside it to match. She noticed some stairs leading up and some leading down, one must be for the desk, and one to the rooms.</p><p>Hermione smiled, because it felt safe.</p><p>But then again—so did the hotel. She told herself to not grow too comfortable.</p><p>"I have another guest, a young woman on her way to London, so she took the biggest spare room—" He fumbled within a box, pulling out some keys and some paper. Everything seems so...<em>muggle</em>. And Hermione assumed that's where she was. A muggle establishment, with a muggle gentleman.</p><p>Muggle sounded like heaven to her right then.</p><p>She almost forgot she's standing next to one of the most Notorious Death Eaters.</p><p>"I have one other spare room, it'll be big enough for the two of you but you will have to share, if that's okay."</p><p>Disgusting. Her stomach churned at the thought of having to live in such close quarters with Draco fucking Malfoy.</p><p>"That'll be fine."</p><p>Graham nodded at Draco, flashing him a smile that Draco refused to return.</p><p>"Here's your key, don't lose it, I don't have a spare!"</p><p>He dropped the keys into Draco's palm and he snatched it away from the wrinkly palm and into his pocket.</p><p>"And if i can just take your names, for insurance policies." Graham continued, a smile still bright on his face.</p><p>Hermione's heart fumbled in her chest. The first name that came to mind was Daphne Greengrass, but she remembered Draco's warning and stumbled with an idea.</p><p>She darted her eyes around the room, until it landed on a painting above the sofa, a red flower and a skull.</p><p>"I'm Rose." The words fell out like jelly, she was sure it was unconvincing, but the man continues to smile. "Rose Waterlily."</p><p>She heard Draco suck his teeth beside her.</p><p>"And you?" Graham looked towards Draco, in unison with Hermione. She had forgotten his hair was no longer white like paper, instead dark like ink.</p><p>For a moment she struggled to recognise him.</p><p>"Uh—my name?—Why do you need to know that?" He's panicking. Hermione wanted to punch him in the face, <em>again</em>. "Oh—my name is... Anchor."</p><p>Anchor? Merlin's grace he really was thicker than she thought.</p><p>Out of every name in the entire world, <em>Anchor</em>.</p><p>She assumed it was the first thing he can think of, seeing as they were on a boat. <em>What an idiot</em>.</p><p>"Anchor Smith." He continued, rolling on the balls of his feet.</p><p>She reminded herself to yell at him later.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Six.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Living with Draco Malfoy in such close quarters exposed many factors about his personality Hermione was not sure she wanted to discover.</p><p>Like how he slammed doors without trying. How he clipped his toenails while sitting on the floor. How he left his clothes out next to the bed ready to wear when he wakes up. How he avoided her at every chance he got.</p><p>And that was all she had discovered within just one day.</p><p>It was probably nightfall by now, Hermione could hear the rush of the waves against the window and her body swung from side to side at a gentle pace as the water pushed against the boat in the harbour.</p><p>It made her feel uneasy, like her stomach was going to explode, but comforted all at once. She hadn't seen, let alone been <em>on</em> the sea for a long time.</p><p>As Hermione folded her clothes on the bed, she heard the door creak open. Though she could feel his presence enter the room, she did not bother to look up and greet him.</p><p>He hadn't spoken to her all day. Instead, he had spent his day sitting alone on the deck, doing nothing but staring up at the snowflakes falling from the sky.</p><p>She didn't have it in her to complain that he would catch frostbite.</p><p>As she spun to place her folded clothes in the dresser—the dresser with small round knobs that were falling apart and blistering with splinters—she caught sight of herself in the mirror against the curved wall.</p><p>Nausea became a stronger detective at this point, because she looked so <em>so</em> different from what she had remembered. Mirrors had become a commodity, she avoided them drastically since her brain started to spiral. But there she was, staring back at herself with wavy black hair and dark under-eyes. It was not the Hermione she knew. It was not the Hermione she <em>liked</em>. But it was her, and she knew she'd have to grow to accept it.</p><p>Depression did that to a person, and she knew it. It wrecked them from the inside out. Since the War began, it got worse. It festered inside of her, starting with her mental state to her physical state. She had lost weight. Her hair was tangled and bushy—She barely had the effort to brush it. </p><p>She was almost to contest with her own appearance that she nearly Draco's occupation in the room.</p><p>It took a few moments for her eyes to catch sight of him in the mirror. He was glancing at her with shallow eyes from the other side of the bed, something painful ridden on his features.</p><p>He looked just as different as she did. The round cheeks she had remembered were long gone and his jaw was one of a man. And that's not to forget the fact his most recognisable and famous feature; his snowy white hair, was now as dark as obsidian.</p><p>The worst part of it all was that Hermione couldn't deny he still looked decent.</p><p>"Finally sick of the cold?" Hermione asked, breaking the subsequent tension that filled the boathouse room. "I know you're probably too stubborn to cast a warming charm."</p><p>He tutted and pulled his black jacket from his body and hung it on the door—Hermione was still the smart one and had headed into Exmouth's small city center to fetch some things and had unconsciously picked him some clothes while she was there. She knew he wouldn't have an ounce of muggle money to his name.</p><p>He didn't thank her, but she didn't want his gratitude.</p><p>"Warming charms are for the weak, Granger." She almost mistook his tone for humour. <em>Almost</em>. "The cold is nice, being cold takes my mind away from things. Such as almost being <em>killed</em> yesterday."</p><p>Closing the draw, she sighed. There was no winning with him.</p><p>He was such a pessimist, with negative constellations running inside of his eyes.</p><p>Yet, she knew she was becoming a pessimist too. It took a lot of strength and effort for her to think positively, but she still <em>trie</em><em>d</em>. It was the only thing she could do to stop herself falling into quorum.</p><p>Draco seemed to have given up trying a long time ago.</p><p>"<em>Almost</em> is the keyword there, Malfoy." She commented, trying to add a chip of happiness to her voice, it fell flat, because he's huffing, falling back against the mattress with his hands behind his head. "You should get some sleep, I haven't seen you close your eyes since we arrived here."</p><p>Her words were the truth. The night before, he had obviously tried to avoid sleeping the same bed as her and had stayed away all night speaking to Graham by the log fire near the kitchen. She wasn't offended, but almost relieved.</p><p>Sharing the same bed as Draco Malfoy was never on her bucket-list. The thought of it made her stomach churn, in more way than one.</p><p>"No, Granger." He sounded annoyed, like he was spitting out the words from the depths of hell beneath his stomach. "Stop trying to act fucking nice to me. You're <em>not</em> nice."</p><p>She paused in her spot by the dresser, curling up her eyebrows with confusion and annoyance.</p><p>"I didn't realise telling somebody they should sleep was acting <em>nice</em>."</p><p><em>I also didn't know that you really think of me as being such a bitch, because I've always tried to be a kind person</em>, she thought, but refused to let the words tumble from out of her mouth.</p><p>"Your tone of voice is too nice, too sweet and too condescending. It even sounds like you might care." His words strung out behind a bitter scoff. He was staring at the ceiling, eyes dancing between the dents in the beams. "But you don't fucking care, so <em>stop</em> acting like you do."</p><p>She pushed herself away from the dresser she didn't realise she had been leaning on and strode across the room.</p><p>"Like I <em>care</em>?" Hermione's voice came out as a small shout, like there were demons inside of her waiting impatiently for the truth to spill between them. "Like i fucking care? Would that be such a problem? To care about the person I am hiding with? Would it? Or is this you trying to keep up your stupid facade of being the big bad Malfoy who doesn't care about anything?"</p><p>She gasped after speaking, because the words had left her without her thinking. He sat up, eyebrows furrowed beneath the black hair falling over his forehead.</p><p>He suddenly pulled himself from the mattress to lean over her like a dark turret.</p><p>"Don't even think about it." He spoke as Hermione grit her teeth, because her back has found its way against the wall. <em>Again</em>. And she cursed herself because she hated that it was so easy for him to control her, so easy for him to make her shudder with the ghost of his breath on her face and with his stupid stupid <em>stupid</em> presence.</p><p>His head tilted before speaking, like he was trying to pour his eyes deep into her brain to figure out what she was thinking.</p><p>"Don't even think about caring for me, because I will never care for you." He spoke, the last word came out with a bitter chuckle.</p><p>Something snapped deep inside of Hermione's chest. She raised her hands and pushed against his shoulders, so full of rage that he actually stumbled back and landed against the small table beside the bed.</p><p>"You think I <em>care</em> for you, Malfoy? You think i would care for the boy who tried to get us all <em>killed</em> in the comfort of our own school?" She was yelling now, her face red like the heart of a fire.</p><p>She didn't even stop to notice the look of stupor on the face of her target. "You think I would care for you when you were the reason Dumbledore died? Do you think I would care for you when you nearly killed Katie Bell? You think I would care when you're the reaso—"</p><p>"—Stop." Draco warned, his eyes targeting her like a hawk, full of famine and full of bitter rage.</p><p>Or maybe it was fear, she couldn't be sure.</p><p>Hermione scoffed this time, "No, I will <em>not</em> shut up, you stupid fool! Don't you realise? If you never betrayed Hogwarts I wouldn't be running from it in the first place."</p><p>"I said <em>s</em><em>top</em>, Granger!" Hermione had no time to react before he lurched towards her like a bullet, gripping her cheeks with cold hands and pulling her face up to look at his own. His hands were rough. Cold. Threatening. He stared at her for a moment, his eyes glancing over her face, her lips, and her neck, like he was trying to seize up what to say or do next.</p><p>She tried to not wince at the pressure on her jaw.</p><p>His words fail and he pushed her away with such force she stumbled. "You don't know anything about last year. <em>Nothing</em>."</p><p>He held his hands out in-front of his body like they were tainted by her skin.</p><p>"I don't?" Antagonising him was probably a bad idea, but Hermione couldn't find one inch of matter inside of her to care. "I don't understand anything? It's not hard to understand, Malfoy. You're a <em>Death Eater</em>. You want me and my kind de-"</p><p>"Fucking hell, will you shut your mouth for one second?." His indignation shocked her. "This is stupid, I will leave in the morning. I was a fool to think sticking with you would save me from death."</p><p>They fell into a bitter silence. They stared at each-other in a cold, raw silence for over several seconds before he glided past her like wind, shoving her shoulder as he did so.</p><p>He didn't speak again.</p><p>In fact, they didn't speak again that whole night. It was like an unspoken promise to keep <em>both</em> their mouths shut.</p><p>Yet still, Hermione found his body lying beside her own, his back pressed against her chest ever so slightly due to the small scale of the mattress.</p><p>He wasn't warm or gentle. He was cold, gelid like ice.</p><p>She didn't sleep well that night, because she discovered that Draco Malfoy snored in his sleep.</p><p>—</p><p>Graham kindly let Hermione and Draco overstay their welcome.</p><p>It had been five days since they arrived at the boathouse.</p><p>Five days of <em>nothing</em>. Five days where Hermione sat in the small wooden room doing nothing but reading, sleeping and trying to practice her magic.</p><p>The last part proved most difficult, though.</p><p>It was like her body was fighting against her, sucking the magic from her veins and crushing it with a snap.</p><p>It was exhausting.</p><p>It had also been five days of silent stares and silent nights sleeping beside Draco.</p><p>They didn't speak much since the fight. Hermione felt as if there were no words to speak. She wasn't going to apologise, neither was he.</p><p>It was an unspoken battle—like two bulls with one matador.</p><p>He avoided her and she avoided him. As much as she could. The boat was not sizeable, there were little rooms to hide in. Nowhere to escape.</p><p>Draco spent his days sitting on the deck, his black hat pulled over his black hair. The cheap jacket she had brought him lingering around his body. His Sketchbook was always in his lap.</p><p>It had reached noon before Hermione recalled Draco was absent from the boat all day. She only realised it when Graham questioned where he had been.</p><p>"Rose?" Hermione didn't look up, not until she remembered that Rose was <em>her</em>. "Rose, sorry to disturb you."</p><p>Hermione closed her book and untucked her legs from beneath her body, letting them fall over the small sofa she was occupied on.</p><p>"Sorry Graham-" She gulped. "Bad hearing."</p><p>Graham laughed, a warm hearty laugh. It still reminded her of her Grandfather's laugh. He sat beside her, smelling like smoke and fire and reminiscence of the sea.</p><p>"Where is Anchor?" Hermione cringed at the name, <em>still</em>.</p><p>She had yelled at Draco many times the first night, telling him it was a foolish idea to call himself something so stupid, but Draco had just shrugged and told her he would tell Graham his father was a fisherman and had named him Anchor as a memory of his boat. Graham seemed to believe him.</p><p>Graham continued to speak. "He disappeared early morning. Haven't seen him since. Was wondering if you both would like Steak Pie for supper?"</p><p>Hermione's stomach sank. Slightly. She considered for a moment if he really had decided to run away like he had told her five days ago.</p><p>Then again, she remembered seeing his sketchbook in the bedroom, she assumed he wouldn't leave it. It seemed more precious to him than anything. It was the only thing he had stashed in his hoodie's pocket before their plan to retrieve his wand from Bellatrix and Shunpike.</p><p>Like it was ridden with secrets or memories or feelings. Maybe a bitter mixture of both.</p><p>"I'm sure he's just exploring." It was the only thing she could think to say. "He's a wanderer, probably just having a look around Exmouth."</p><p>Graham nodded, as the door of the boat swung open, followed by Draco who stalked in dashed beneath layers and layers of black.</p><p>He had a bitter look on his face as he glanced over to Hermione and Graham sitting by the fire. Hermione wanted to laugh at the snowflakes that were riddled in his black hair. It was almost cute, but Draco could never be cute, not with that sneer ridden constantly on his features.</p><p>Hermione just now noticed how vividly the boat is swinging from the waves in the harbour as Draco stumbled in his spot by the door, the plastic bag in his hands crumbling in his fist. Hermione wondered what he had brought.</p><p>He had no money.</p><p>"Ah, Anchor, we were just talking about you." Graham smiled, Draco did not return the smile, instead, he looked the fisherman up and down with his cold eyes. "You've been gone for hours, my boy! Must be <em>freezing</em>, would you like some steak pie?"</p><p>Graham went to stand, but Draco held out a hand.</p><p>His fingers were nearly blue.</p><p>"Don't bother. I don't like Pie." With that, Draco stumbled away, heading down to the bedroom. He emerged a few moments later, holding his sketchbook against his chest and headed up the stairs towards the deck in a harsh silence.</p><p>In the time it took Draco to fetch his sketchbook, Graham had disappeared into the kitchen.</p><p>Hermione was alone.</p><p>She was tired of being alone.</p><p>Company became a virtue, a blessing, something great and something terrible all at once. Fear was riddled in her skin when she was alone, like she was fragile and broken and weak. Hermione knew she wasn't weak. She never had been. She was a strong witch, with veins that burned with the power of magic—The same power of magic that seemed to be fading from her core since she returned to Hogwarts.</p><p>With a sigh, she stood, leaving her book placed on the table.</p><p>Her feet moved without conviction, carrying her out into the bitter cold of the harbour. Her shoes crunched under the snow on the deck, loud enough to catch Draco's attention from the bow.</p><p>He sat with his legs hanging over the edge, his sketchpad hidden in the snow next to his thighs. Hermione cringed at the fact the pages would get soggy. He didn't seem to care.</p><p>
  <em>"Do you care about anything?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Nothing at all."</em>
</p><p>Hermione scoffed at the memory of his words. Stubborn. Laboured. Stringent.</p><p>"Ah, Miss Granger." Sarcasm fell beneath the cracks of his words as Hermione sat next to him. "Sorry—my bad, Miss Rose Waterlily."</p><p>He hadn't cast a warming charm. She did it herself with the wand hidden inside her pocket.</p><p>Her wrist tingled uncomfortably again.</p><p>"Rose Waterlily is a better name than Anchor Smith." A laugh escaped her throat.</p><p>He refused to laugh back, but he smiled. A hard, closed lipped smile, but it was there. <em>Unmissable</em>. It was the first time she had really seen him smile since his attempt to curse Katie Bell.</p><p>"Where did you go?" Hermione didn't mean to sound nosey. She was simply curious. It was hard to read Draco's mood most of the time, so she half expected him to tell her to fuck off and mind her own business.</p><p>"Into the city center, I got a new pencil for sketching and some muggle food called mince pies." He was picking at the loose stitches in the hem of his jacket as he spoke quietly. "They tasted like shit."</p><p>With a frown, Hermione tentatively asked an obvious question. "With what money? Wizards like you don't walk around with muggle money in your pockets."</p><p>He scoffed, pulling his hands away from the thread to rest against the silver railing of the bow. His fingers wrapped around the metal unconsciously, his silver ring scraping against it with a scratch.</p><p>"An old man was giving away some muggle money, so I just used that." He shrugged, not elaborating.</p><p>"Giving away money? That doesn't sound typically usual, are you sure—"</p><p>"He was sat by a store, holding a wicker basket in my direction. There were coins inside, so I took them. Rather generous really."</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes and slapped his shoulder harder than she meant to.</p><p>"You really are a blithering <em>idiot</em>, Malfoy." She tried to suppress her laugh, even if the situation was rather cruel. "He wasn't giving you money, he was homele—you know what, <em>nevermind</em>."</p><p>There was no energy inside of her to explain it.</p><p>"You don't have to hit me!" Hermione couldn't work out if his voice is laced with anger or humour. She assumed maybe a mixture of both. "I even got you this, the ugly packaging reminded me of your hideous clothes."</p><p>He pulled a packet from his pocket and tossed it on her lap. The packing <em>was</em> rather hideous, green and purple with gold foiling.</p><p>Before she could say thank you, Draco was pulling himself to his feet and descending back inside, like three minutes with her was <em>more</em> than enough.</p><p>His imprint was still in the snow, exposing the wooden boards of the boat beneath it.</p><p>She didn't want to question it—Why Draco would even <em>consider</em> buying her a gift. If it could be called a gift anyway, seeing as it was technically <em>stolen</em>.</p><p>Holding it up towards the sea, she squinted to read the writing on the green paper.</p><p>It was dark chocolate.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Seven.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The bed was not void when Hermione woke up.</p><p>Draco was astray, but it was not empty. Rather than himself, he had left a sketch on his pillow. It was torn at the edges. Hermione was almost too afraid to look. Every other time he had left her a drawing—it had made her sick. They always included death. <em>Her</em> death. <em>Her</em> dying.</p><p>It almost disappointed her when she held it beneath the light. She had to wipe her tired eyes to make sure she was seeing the pencil markings correctly.</p><p>It was a drawing of the boat, which she couldn't deny was fantastically detailed, half submerged by waves. In the window drawn beneath the water, her face, screaming for help, with bubbles streaming from her mouth.</p><p>Written beside it in the familiar scruffy hand writing; <em>Born Hermione Granger, drowned as Rose Waterlily</em>.</p><p>She then noticed Draco had drawn the boat being dragged down into the dark ocean by an Anchor.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione had never questioned Draco's magical ability.</p><p>He had never been a <em>great</em> wizard to her, but he'd never been a <em>bad</em> one either. She had just simply never thought about it.</p><p>He had never showcased his magical ability back at Hogwarts, but she couldn't remember him ever failing a test or botching a spell in the classes they took together. Though she could remember him hexing Theodore Nott to the potion classroom wall in a '<em>friendly duel</em>' more than once, and now she thought about it, he had seemed pretty powerful then. Unless Theodore Nott was just extremely weak.</p><p>That seemed to be the only time she saw force leak from his wand—When he was showing off or being belittling to another.</p><p>Only then, sitting on the deck in the snow, did it cross her mind. She thought about the charm he had cast—their hair had still remained the same shade of obsidian since he casted the appearance-changing spell six days ago. <em>That</em> took magical ability. Charms like that could wear off in a few hours if you weren't a smart or strong enough wizard.</p><p>Only now, as she watched Draco cross the deck and cast a warming charm, did she consider maybe he was a greater wizard than herself. Because those days, she couldn't seem to make a warming charm last through the night.</p><p>There had been a few times Hermione had debated asking Draco for his opinion regarding her faltering magic, but she had always decided against it. She knew he'd scoff at her, or suck his teeth, or tell her she's being '<em>thick'</em>. Deep down, she knew it was better left unsaid.</p><p>Hermione closed the pages of her novel when she realised she had stopped reading the words ten minutes ago. Instead, she let her eyes follow the pacing shadow in-front of her. He nearly faded into the smog behind him.</p><p>"Do you think they are still looking for me, us?" She barely caught his voice in the midst of her daze. He didn't sound happy, which did not surprise her. She was not happy with <em>him</em> either. "Fuck sake Granger, i'm talking to you!"</p><p>"What?" She had to squint to see him clearly within the growing fog.</p><p>"Bellatrix, Stanley, the rest of the Death Eaters." Draco stood over her, his wand wrapped tightly in his hand.</p><p>Brave, seeing as a muggle could walk past on the harbour and see it in plain sight. He didn't care.</p><p>He scoffed. "Stop acting so thick."</p><p>"Are they after us?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, pulling the blanket that was drapped over her feet up towards her chest. "It's only been five days since we lost them, of <em>course</em> they are. You don't think Bellatrix Lestrange would give up the chance of handing us over to Voldemort so promptly, would you?"</p><p>Draco sneered. He turned on his heels to pace across the deck once more.</p><p>"You think they'd kill me if I went back to them?" His voice was high. Like a scratch in the wind.</p><p>Hermione clambered to her feet, discarding the cotton blanket in the snow beside her.</p><p>"You're really thinking of going back to <em>them</em>?" Hermione couldn't help but feel her heart drop into her stomach. "After all the effort of hiding in the first place?"</p><p>Betrayal was written with his blood in the snow—Yet she was the only one who could see it.</p><p>"Maybe it'll be easier than running." He seemed so nonchalant, like he didn't care.</p><p>It was all an act, Hermione could tell.</p><p>She could tell from the way the blue in his eyes shook, from the way his lips curled against his teeth, from the way his wand vibrated in his fingers. It was an <em>act</em>.</p><p>"I think he would kill you." Hermione deadpanned, crossing her arms over her grey sweater. "Though you seem to be better acquainted with <em>him</em> than I am. You should know."</p><p>It had begun snowing again. It bundled in her black hair. It bundled in his too.</p><p>"He would either kill me quicker than a flash of light, or coerce me into being his right-winged man. He did the latter to my father." Draco gulped at the mention of family. It was the first time he had spoken of them since they met in the hotel. "They'll find me, <em>us</em>, eventually."</p><p>They fell into silence, the waves occupy the need for sound for a few moments. Hermione questioned the Malfoy family for a moment. Her brain quickly staggered through the ideology she knew of them. A pained, shredded family, that was made to radiate like glory and power through the media. She couldn't remember the last time she had heard one thing mentioning Lucius, Narcissa, or even the more distant members of the Malfoy and Black clan since departing for Hogwarts. Other than Bellatrix, of course. The last thing she could remember rotated around Lucius' escape from Azkaban.</p><p>She even questioned if that was the reason Draco had ran away in the beginning, if the re-appearance of his father had caused a strain on his relationship with the Malfoy's.</p><p>Hermione knew he feared Lucius more than anything.</p><p>After all, he was his Boggart in third year.</p><p>But Hermione could have sworn she was the only one to have seen the Boggart, because she had flung her body in-front of it and cast it away with a flick of her wand.</p><p>She still couldn't remember why she had done that. It would've been more than humorous to watch him cry in embarrassment.</p><p>She wondered if she's the only one who knew about his deep rooted fear for Lucius Malfoy overall.</p><p>While she had spent moments thinking, Draco had stepped a little closer to her on the deck. The fog had grown so strong as the snow speckled over them he could barely see her.</p><p>"And your mother?" Hermione asked carefully, keeping her eyes trained to the silver necklace around his neck rather than his eyes.. "How does Voldemort treat your mother now, following your fathers escape from Azkaban?"</p><p>Draco stepped away from her.</p><p>It looked like he had stopped breathing.</p><p>He kept his mouth pursed in a straight line, eyebrows furrowed deeply on his forehead as he brushed past Hermione's shoulder with his own.</p><p>He spoke before disappearing down the stairs and into the warmth of the boat.</p><p>"My Mother is dead."</p><p>—</p><p>Guilt reeked through Hermione's brain for the rest of the day.</p><p>She knew she shouldn't have felt guilty. After all, Naricissa Malfoy had still been a Death Eater. However, Hermione had always believed Draco's mother had some good inside of her. She remembered Narcissa giving her and Ron sweets inside of the book store in Diagon Alley while Lucius and Draco fondled over expensive leather novels in the corner of the store.</p><p>It annoyed Hermione that she would never be able to find out if she was good or just as evil as her husband.</p><p>Hermione thought for a while. For too long. Trying to put the pieces together trying figure out how and <em>why</em> Narcissa Malfoy was dead. No obvious reasons came to mind other than the possibility of her defying Voldemort and being killed as a punishment.</p><p>Hermione also decided that it could have been the factor which resulted in Draco's escape from the Dark Lord.</p><p>It lingered ferociously in her mind as she sorted through the clothes in the dresser again. Draco had been right, her clothes really were hideous. The thought made her laugh.</p><p>Hermione woke after an extensive nap. She had dreamt of nothing but the ocean.</p><p>She wondered where Draco had gone. Since his confession, she had not seen an inch of his soul on the boat. Maybe he ran away. Maybe he had decided that he really would be better of returning to the Dark Lord and live out his fathers fantasies of Draco becoming Voldemort's right hand man.</p><p>Deja Vu hit Hermione in the head like a truck, because Draco entered the room. She caught sight of his tired face in the mirror. She was too busy avoiding her <em>own</em> reflection.</p><p>It looked as though he had been crying.</p><p>Hermione had to pinch her tongue with her teeth to avoid questions leaking from her lips.</p><p>"T-There's something you should see." His voice came out a mere whisper. Like he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. Like he was afraid to speak all-together. "Quickly."</p><p>Hermione should've prepared for the worst. But she didn't <em>expect</em> the worse. She expected Draco to be showing her something minuscule, maybe something he had found in the city of Exmouth, maybe an animal that had crawled into the boat or maybe something unrelated all together.</p><p>Anything but Graham laying lifeless by the fire.</p><p>His body lingered with a glow of emerald.</p><p>"H-He's dead?" Hermione's feet carried her towards his stumpy body.</p><p>His eyes were rolled back in his head.</p><p>Hermione used her fingers to close his eyelids, covering the bleak bronze of his iris'.</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>Her fingers tingled when she touched his skin. They tingled with magic. Though it wasn't the magic she was used to. It tingled with Dark magic. Painful and ferocious, piercing her skin like tiny little needles.</p><p>Deep down Hermione hoped it wasn't Draco behind his death.</p><p>Deep down she hoped the confession and reminder of his mother's death didn't send him in a mad spiral resulting in the death of the fisherman.</p><p>She knew it was likely.</p><p>"Did you do this?" Suspicion was rooted in her words. She avoided his eye, instead they pan towards the fire beside Graham's body.</p><p>He was a good man. A sweet man. He had looked after Hermione that past week. He had cooked her delicious meals, kept her company by the fire when Draco was sketching in their room. His death hurt her chest in a such a harrowing way. A death that was no deserved. Ruthless. It reminded her very much of the death of Cedric—unneeded. Unkept. Tragic.</p><p>Deep down, she crumbled. If this was how she reacted to the death of a man she had known for one week, how would she react to the death of someone she loved during the looming war?</p><p>She swallowed the bile in her throat.</p><p>Draco's tongue flicked against the cracks on his bottom lip.</p><p>"You really think i'd kill an innocent man?" Draco sounded offended, like his body was flooding with gall and heat. "You really think I would do <em>that</em>?"</p><p>She thought on it for a moment—Dumbledore's falling body flickered in her mind.</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>Draco growled, striding over to her and gripping her arm in his hand. He forced her to stand. Hermione couldn't argue and make him stop, she was still in shock from finding her host dead on the floor.</p><p>She found his hands on her sides of her face again, his nails sinking into her cheeks.</p><p>"Malfoy, stop—"</p><p>"I hate you." He spoke with exigency. "I hate you <em>so</em> much."</p><p>His nails deepened in her skin before she could speak.</p><p>"The fact you'd think i'd use a killing curse on him is shocking, Granger." He gulped his words down with a hint of animosity. "The fact you'd see me as the villain without asking the facts is simply...<em>shocking</em>."</p><p>"Let go of me." She wasn't sure why she was scared. Not scared of him. Yet scared of his stare, scared of his blue eyes ripping her blood to shreds beneath the surface of her skin.</p><p>"I didn't kill him." Draco shoved Hermione away. She cringed as she stumbles on Graham's dead body on the floor. "I didn't fucking kill him, and <em>that's</em> why we should be worried."</p><p>Hermione struggled to respond.</p><p>She was overwhelmed.</p><p>The feeling of safety she had acquired in the boathouse had quickly fizzled away. Her stomach was now full with bile and fear.</p><p>"H-He's telling the truth." A broken voice came from near the stairwell that led down to the bedrooms. It was spoken with a french accent belonging to a petite woman, with long brown hair and red lipstick dotted on her heart-shaped lips.</p><p>Hermione had only seen the fellow guest once passing through for dinner. Other than that, she stayed cooped up inside of her room with soft music playing from a cassette.</p><p>Draco span on his heels and pulled his wand from his black jacket. He held it towards her like a gun.</p><p>Hermione didn't notice that he had stepped in-front of her.</p><p>The woman seemed stunned, shock ridden on her features. Her hands were shaking by her sides.</p><p>"And was it <em>you</em>?" Draco's voice came out as a quiet scream. He jabbed his wand in her direction. "Who ordered you to kill him? <em>Who</em> told you where we were?"</p><p>"Draco just hear her ou—"</p><p>"Shut the fuck up Granger!" He took a short break from glaring the Parisian to shoot Hermione a glare over his shoulder.</p><p>"I-i didn't do anything to him." The woman gulped. "I was simply watching the sunset from the window by the fire and some people came in, demanded Graham to t-tell them where a boy and girl were, b-but he didn't know."</p><p>Hermione wanted to reach out and calm the woman, but Draco was preventing her from moving.</p><p>Draco's wand slowly lowered to beside his waist.</p><p>"I can't remember the names well...I've never heard names like it b-before. Something like Drano-"</p><p>"Draco." He was correcting her without realising. "And who came? What did they look like?"</p><p>Her mouth fell open and closed before she could reply.</p><p>She seemed to be ridden with shock.</p><p>"It's okay." Hermione tried to make her words as soft as possible, but when Hermione darted around Draco's frame to step closer to her, she backed into a shadow. "You don't have to be scared."</p><p>She nodded. But doesn't reply. Draco sucked his teeth behind her—His stupid habit that Hermione loathed.</p><p>"What's your name? You can trust me."</p><p>"Jennie." The woman, <em>Jennie</em>, stepping back into the room with a new soft smile headed in Hermione's direction.</p><p>She avoided Draco's stare like he was made from fire.</p><p>"Will you just fucking tell us who it was? What were they wearing?" Draco was impatient.</p><p>Always so impatient. Always so rude.</p><p>Hermione and Draco both knew it was the Death Eaters. Hermione realised Draco just wanted to know which <em>ones</em>.</p><p>She thought maybe Draco hoped it wasn't his father.</p><p>"Long black cloaks." Jennie's eyes found the floor as Draco tapped his heel impatiently. "I- i think one of the women addressed another as Theo."</p><p>Hermione's heart froze in her chest.</p><p>She could hear Draco's boots scuffling on the floor behind her and before she had a chance to deject, he was gripping Jennie's shoulders with his hands. His knuckles had gone white with rage.</p><p>"Theo. Theo <em>what</em>. What did he look like?" He shook her. She whimpered. Hermione tried to drag him away but he didn't budge. It was like a switch had been flipped in his heart. "What did he fucking <em>look</em> like!"</p><p>"They were wearing masks, but he had brown hair, i-i'm sorry." She looked as though she was going to cry. Hermione wouldn't blame her if she did. "He kept asking Graham about the man called D—Draco...told him he knew he had been here. Graham didn't have a response, so—so he—"</p><p>She had begun to cry. Draco released her from his grip and punched the wall beside him.</p><p>"He killed him?" Hermione finished the sentence for her, cringing and biting down her tears as she spoke. "Theo did?"</p><p>"I don't get it." Jennie whimpered as she nodded at Hermione's question. Her Hands were still trembling as she brought her fingers to her lips to chew on her nails. "I—i think i'm going crazy, he killed him like it was...magic."</p><p>Silence fell between the three of them.</p><p>"Go pack your shit Granger, pack mine while I finish this." Hermione gasped so loudly that Draco laughed bitterly. His eyes looked as though they were stinging with tears trying to escape.</p><p>She knew it was because Theo had been mentioned.</p><p>And Theo seemed to be trying to betray him.</p><p>"I'm not going to kill her if that's what you think, an obliviation spell will work just fine."</p><p>Hermione felt her feet moving towards the bedroom without another word.</p><p>She had to step over the blood that had fell onto the floorboards from Draco's knuckles.</p><p>—</p><p>The snow began to feel like a lucid dream.</p><p>It fell between the cracks in Hermione's eyelashes and into the holes in her boots. It swallowed her like she was a grain of sand being sucked into the ocean.</p><p>The snow didn't stop falling until they stopped running. It didn't stop until they doubled over out of breath with their hands on their knees.</p><p>It didn't stop until looked around to take in her surroundings. They were back in the middle of nowhere, swallowed by tall grey trees that were smuck with ivory snow.</p><p>For a short moment, she had almost forgotten why they were running. And she had almost enjoyed the feeling of bitter freedom that rang through her veins as her feet moved against the blizzard beneath them.</p><p>"W-why didn't we just apparate?" Hermione's words were sucked out of her as she struggled for breath.</p><p>Draco was leaning against a tree, hair falling into his eyes. It had turned wavy from the wind falling through the strands. She almost forgot black wasn't his natural hair until she reminded herself the dusk colour was temporary.</p><p>"Shut up." Hermione held her hands up in surrender at his harsh words. She had only asked him a question. He seemed agitated. "Just shut up for five fucking minutes."</p><p>When she finally caught her breath, she stalked towards him. He grimace at her presence as his eyes filtered onto her face. His lips were almost blue.</p><p>Hermione's eyes fell to his knuckles. Trickles of red were still dripping, tainting the purity of the snow with a crimson stain.</p><p>"Do you want me to heal that?" She made the mistake of reaching for his hand. He pulled it away from her own the moment her skin touched his.</p><p>"My shoulder still hasn't healed, I may as well add another injury to the list of growing problems". His jacket scratched against the bark of the tree as he slid from it and began to walk. She followed. "Any faint idea on where will be safe to head, Granger?"</p><p>Thinking was hard. Especially in a moment like this. Especially when they had just ran for their lives the second Jennie's memory was nothing but a blank state and Graham's body was cast into the waves.</p><p>Hermione had grimaced as his body hit the water, but she told herself he would rather lay peacefully in the ocean he loved rather than rotting on the floor of the boat.</p><p>"We could always leave the country." Keeping up with Draco's fast pace and talking at the same time was much more difficult than she had anticipated. "Or would that be a stupid idea?"</p><p>Draco scoffed, turning a corner where their feet fell against a cobblestone path. It was easier to walk on than the slippery texture of the snow. Yet it was still hard to walk with no destination.</p><p>"<em>Stupid</em> idea." He didn't elaborate until she sighed loud enough for him to hear. "Apparating that far is too much of a risk for wizards of our age. I don't feel like flying. It would be too easy for them to track us with our information given to the airport."</p><p>They kept walking in silence. Neither of them had any ideas. Walking was the only thing they could do.</p><p>It was least an hour, an hour of nothing but barren sight of Devonshire land, an hour of <em>cold</em>, before Hermione spoke.</p><p>It was most likely a bad idea to bring it up. She knew that, deep down. But this was Hermione, she wasn't going to stand there and bite her tongue with such pressing questions gripping her brain with such vigour.</p><p>"I'm sorry, by the way." Draco shot her a glance of trepidation. "About your mother. About Narcissa."</p><p>Apparently, Draco wasn't outraged by her words like she expected him to be.</p><p>"What would you be sorry for?" Though he wasn't outraged, he was annoyed. Sarcasm was laced between his words. "She's just another Death Eater for your bestie Potter to tick off his list."</p><p>The words made Hermione's chest hurt in a weird way. It made her fingers feel limp. He <em>was</em> right. He was definitely right. Though she couldn't push away the sadness that drifted into her stomach at the image of Narcissa Malfoy's name being carved into a Gravestone.</p><p>"Nobody deserves to loose their mother." Her words were tentative. Too soft. Too friendly. It wasn't the way she was meant to talk to Draco Malfoy. It felt like she was breaking the rules. "Especially not someone as young as you."</p><p>For a moment she thought she could hear Draco sniff back a sob. She was wrong, he simply looked at her as he walked, a frown written onto his features.</p><p>Deep down she knew he was happy to hear her say it. She knew nobody else would have comforted him about something so taboo.</p><p>"She wasn't a terrible woman." Draco spoke after a few moments of cold silence, nothing but the crunch of the path beneath their feet. "People believed she was just like my father."</p><p>Hermione nodded, trying to encourage him to keep talking. She was rather nosey.</p><p>"My mother was the only person who understood me. She was the only one who knew when it was right to escape from my father. She would always take me away for a few days when things became too much." He cleared his throat like he was exposing too much. "She would lie to Voldemort and tell him I was sick when i was too frightened to attend the meetings in my kitchen. She was good."</p><p>Hermione nodded again.</p><p>"You laughed because I chose the name Anchor." He added. "I chose the name Anchor because my mother always compared me to one, told me I kept her stable in times of troubled waters."</p><p>Hermione's heart trembled with a feeling of hope. Just for a short moment.</p><p>He sighed. "She was <em>good</em>."</p><p>Hermione believed him.</p><p>"And, she did something good, which resulted in her death?"</p><p>Maybe Hermione had overslept the line, because the soft look that overtook Draco's features faltered and his usual look of concrete fell back onto his face.</p><p>"I shouldn't have told you so much." He had stopped walking. Hermione noticed a small hole in the knee of his black trousers. "It's none of <em>your</em> fucking business."</p><p>Offence almost riddled Hermione's bones. She felt stupid, so <em>so</em> stupid for even caring about something personal to do with Draco for even a moment. He didn't deserve her guilt or her worry.</p><p>"If you really hate me so much, why should I bother continuing to run with you, Malfoy?" Her arms had crossed over her chest. She could feel her arms shuddering with chill. "Maybe we really <em>should</em> just split and go our own ways."</p><p>He looked down at her. He considered it. It was obvious in his eyes. But something else took over the space between his pupils.</p><p>"Take my arm." It was not the response she had trained herself to expect.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>His arm was brushing her elbows that poked out from the way her arms had been crossed.</p><p>"I know where my mother would want us to hide."</p><p>At that moment, she trusted him.</p><p>She took his arm, and they disappeared with a crack.</p><p> </p><p>—<br/><b><em>A/N- anyone have any theories on why Hermione is struggling with magic? On Theo? On the reason for Narcissa's death? I would love to know!</em></b></p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Eight.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione's feet found themselves landing on a slack of ice on a pavement in a small street.</p><p>But she didn't recognise her surroundings.</p><p>Draco had stepped forward into the path of a street light which bounced a yellow glare from his black hair. He kept walking for a moment, seeming slightly dizzy from the magical transportation until he stepped in-front of a row of terrace-houses.</p><p>They were made of red brick, all with small square windows on either sides of the doors. Her heart grew warm at the sight of Christmas reefs hanging from the doors and the glimpses of Christmas trees from inside the windows. She hadn't even <em>considered</em> the fact it would be Christmas soon. This was the first Christmas she would spend alone.</p><p>Well, as alone as it could be if she spent it with Draco.</p><p>"Where are we?" Hermione noticed the mist that fell from her mouth as she spoke. The cold had embraced her like a tight hug but she hadn't taken a moment to notice.</p><p>"Southwark." Draco's voice was short. His breath seemed staggered like he was nervous. "In London."</p><p>While she questioned if being in London was the safest location to try and hide from angry Death Eaters, she more-so questioned why he had decided to bring them <em>here</em> in the first place. It seemed awfully open, in the middle of a housing estate filled with occupants.</p><p>Much different from the wonky hotel and boathouse that had been rather secluded. Secluded didn't mean safe, Hermione reminded herself. Both locations had ended in disaster.</p><p>She opened her mouth to press questions, but Draco had pulled out his wand and pointed it towards two attached houses. He whispered something she couldn't hear and before she had time to consider it, the ground was rumbling beneath her feet and the houses were parting, exposing another house of slightly darker brick in the middle.</p><p>The actions had reminded her of her first visit to Grimmauld Place. Yet the new house was slightly more harrowing, with a broken window, mulled with cobwebs and dust sitting on the door handle.</p><p>It seemed untouched. For many years.</p><p>Draco took a deep breath beside her, before checking over his left and right shoulder and heading towards the house. Hermione had remained stunned on the pavement. Draco paused and turned back, grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards the door.</p><p>"If you want to ask stupid questions—" Draco started, pausing to whisper <em>Alohamora</em> to unlock the door before continuing. "—Ask them later."</p><p>She nodded.</p><p>The interior of the house was slightly different from the initial appearance she had been hit with on the street. It was dark, with dark walls and dark wooden floors and little light, merely lit by a small glass chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling. The glass clanged as the house rumbled back into its hiding space.</p><p>"Follow me." Hermione disliked that he was ordering her around, but he seemed too on <em>edge</em> to argue with.</p><p>As he walked, he used his wand like a weapon, doing what Hermione assumed to be checking for protective wards or traps. It was suspicious to her that he knew to check in all the right places, but she didn't let her mind settle on it.</p><p>They ended up in a small living-dining room, which held nothing more than a round black table and a beryl coloured sofa. It looked as though it was made of velvet.</p><p>She tried to not let her eyes dwell on the details of her surroundings. But she was a rather <em>nosey</em> person. Her eyes fell onto the paintings on the walls—they weren't paintings, yet small sketches in black pencil, held by a glass panels and black frames. They filled the walls, from the kitchen to the living area. It was too dim inside to work out what the sketches were.</p><p>Her eyes also trained onto the coffee table. There was an open paper—she assumes it to be an old Daily Prophet. Next to it a pair of old glasses, its lenses stuffed with dust.</p><p>"Malfoy what is this p-"</p><p>"I told you to ask questions later." His voice was chipped at the seams. He seemed torn. "My head hurts too much to talk sense with you."</p><p>As he spoke, Hermione noticed the soot of his hair evaporating, lightning until it was reformed back to its usual state. Crystal white. It was almost weird to see him back to how he Hermione had known him to look. For a moment it almost made her sad. Now, she was reminded of the cruel boy from school who tormented her for years. The black hair had made him feel almost like a new person. Like someone <em>somewhat</em> good.</p><p>"Your hair is blonde again." Hermione told him, assuming that her own hair had returned to its natural state. It felt like a weight from her shoulders when she pulled a curl into eyesight, seeing its warm brown colour. It felt as though the evil had seeped from her bones.</p><p>Draco had placed his bag on the round table. Dust settled into the stems of the stitches. Hermione watched as he locked his hands together to crack his fingers. How he rolled his neck to crack his spine.</p><p>"This place stops any appearance-altering charms." He told her, still rolling his head and neck as he spoke. "So don't think i'm worse at charms than you. It was obligatory by the magic."</p><p>Hermione took the information in, she assumed this was a good thing. It meant the place would protect the current occupants, which was now her and Draco. This meant no one would get in using charms to trick them like the last time.</p><p>Draco cleared his throat before finally holding his head still.</p><p>"Granger?" Hermione eyed him, nodding at him to continue speaking. "Please fuck off and let me have five minutes alone. Your presence is agitating my senses."</p><p>Offence didn't seep through her.</p><p>Draco looked as if he was on the verge of snapping.</p><p>She knew this house meant something important, deep down inside of his heart. Something good or something bad hadn't been decided by her just yet.</p><p>He wanted her to leave him alone so he could finally crack.</p><p>—</p><p>Wandering for information was never something Hermione enjoyed to do. She had always preferred definite facts from mouth or book. She didn't enjoy having to work through information to figure it out through brittle hints or ideas. It infuriated her.</p><p>She had always called wandering the <em>Luna effect.</em></p><p>Even before Hermione and Luna became friends, she would notice Luna constantly wandering around the green woodlands surrounding Hogwarts. Feeding animals, working out how the flobberworms would cope with the changing seasons, her brown skin constantly glowing in the sunlight, her fingers plucking at flowers.</p><p>Thinking of Luna had nearly made her cry, so she pushed the thought of her blonde friend to the back of her mind and continued down the dark upstairs hallway. Hermione let her fingers drag across the wallpaper as she walked, it felt old. Old and brittle. Not old enough to be cracking and falling from the walls, but old enough to hold memories. And Stories.</p><p>Three rooms and two bathrooms; That's all there was to the upstairs floor.</p><p>The first bedroom Hermione had wandered into was a small room no bigger than an office. Grey and Silver seemed to be a key colour in this room. With royal grey sheets on the bed that was half broken and shiny silver pots holding plants hanging from the ceiling.</p><p>The plants were very much dead.</p><p>Though wandering wasn't her thing; Being nosey <em>was</em>.</p><p>Hermione took no time to think before deciding to shift through the draws, trying to find some clues or evidence to where the hell she was staying. Draco had opted out of being bearable today and refused to answer any of her questions.</p><p>Not much was found. One shirt that seemed rather small, Hermione assumed it was for a young child, a teen at a push. One comb that held the reminiscences of blonde hair, a strand falling from the gaps in the teeth and against the dark wood of the dresser-draw.</p><p>In the bottom draw Hermione had found masses amount of parchment. It was scribbled with charcoal pencil and ink, many of the drawings and writings were hard to decipher. She paused at one drawing, swearing for a moment the animal on the parchment resembled Hagrid's late hound Fang.</p><p>It made her insides tingle with the raw feeling of Nostalgia.</p><p>As Hermione went to close the draw, parchment fell against her hand catching her attention. It was a messy drawing of a young girl with wild hair a large teeth. A small symbol she could not recognise beside her face. Her fingers threaten to tremble at the thought that crossed her mind.</p><p>
  <em>It looked awfully similar to her younger-self.</em>
</p><p>She shook the thought away as she slammed the draw shut.</p><p>The next room was much larger, fitting a double bed draped in emerald sheets.</p><p>Yet only one pillow was crumpled.</p><p>A mirror sat against the wall, a small hand-print in the bottom corner in what seemed like blue paint. This had made something tug at Hermione's chest. It reminded her of childhood.</p><p>Beside the mirror was a tall rack that held a khaki green trench coat that had a white pattern stitched into the fabric. When Hermione reached out to touch it, her fingers stung with the memoirs of powerful magic.</p><p>Other than that, the room had little else to explore. It seemed empty. Desolate. <em>Pained</em>. Hermione questioned if it mirrored the emotions of the wizard who previously occupied it.</p><p>The third room held the most exciting features, though. It was roughly the size of the previous one, with a slightly smaller bed.</p><p>There were no sheets on the mattress, yet only a brittle red stain.</p><p>Hermione had instantly found a pile of letters bound together by string by the edge of the bed. She stuffed them in her pocket to read later that night.</p><p>She had found a skull. This was most terrifying for a short moment before she saw the small print of <em>made in china </em>written beneath the left eye. This concluded the person had an interest in death, humans, maybe science.</p><p>Most exciting of all, she had found a <em>wand</em>.</p><p>A wand hidden beneath a pile of clothes beneath the bare-bed. It was hidden with a book, Hermione scrambled to place it beside her to take later that night to read. She didn't check the title in the midst of her information-collecting.</p><p>Instead, she pulled the wand from the grey shirt it was slipped inside off and held it up towards the dim yellow light on the ceiling.</p><p>It was absolutely stunning. The most interesting wand Hermione had ever seen.</p><p>It was so unique and elegant, with soft dark wood with little to no bumps in the seams. Smooth.</p><p>At the end, a yellow jewel. Though not completely yellow—it had shadows of green and orange running through it, sparkling against the cast of the light behind it. <br/>There were small markings inside, they looked like letter's or numbers, the only one Hermione could make out was the letter '<em>S</em>'.</p><p>Hermione was not an expert at wands. It wasn't her forte. She loathed the fact she couldn't detect the core or flexibility simply by touching it like Ron could—A secret talent and interest of his—but she could feel the power radiating through the wood and into her veins.</p><p>She sucked her teeth in frustration about the little knowledge she had surrounding the topic as she tapped the jewel. She didn't notice she had acquired the habit she loathed from her fellow occupant.</p><p>Like always, the thought of Harry and Ron became prominent in her mind as she let her nail continue to tap at the jewel. Harry would have most certainly found this interesting, he'd probably rip the wand from Hermione's hands to study it himself, thinking of explanations and reasons to who's wand it was and to why they had left it here. Ron would've identified its core, but then would've become lazy and flopped down onto the floor to rest his head in his hands as Hermione and Harry spoke for hours about conspiracies and possibilities.</p><p>She missed them greatly. Draco did not have the same interest and fire for knowledge inside of his loins like her Best friends did. Not yet, anyway.</p><p>As Hermione headed to descend back downstairs with the letters and wand stuffed into her coat pocket, she caught a wisp of white hair pass the door before the bathroom door slammed shut a few metres away.</p><p>She wondered if Draco had been watching her study the wand the entire time.</p><p>—</p><p>Surprisingly there was food on the table once Hermione woke up. She had decided to sleep on the small sofa.</p><p>Draco had taken occupancy in the bedroom with the grey sheets and hanging plant pots.</p><p>Before heading to bed, he had looked Hermione viscously in the eyes and told her to <em>not</em> enter the bedroom with green sheets again.</p><p>Without bothering to question why, she didn't. It was much easier sleeping on the sofa with a thin blanket pulled up against her next to block out the cold than in the third bedroom she had explored.</p><p>It reeked with dark magic and magical realism.</p><p>That's how Hermione woke, with her body shivering beneath the blanket but the soft smell of breakfast wafting over to her. She had tried to cast a warming charm—it had failed miserably.</p><p>"Are you finally awake?" Draco's voice sliced through the silence in the room. Hermione could hear the scratch of a chair across the black wood as he sat at the table. "Been sleeping like a hippogriff for the past ten hours."</p><p>Hermione was shocked she had slept so much. She knew it was the most sleep she had gotten in weeks.</p><p>As she dragged herself from the sofa, still keeping the blanket wrapped around her body, she joined him at the dining table. The breakfast of course wasn't grand, but they had four slices of bread each, accompanied by honey-jam and even a pancake. Hermione squinted at him suspiciously as she sits opposite him.</p><p>"Is there a reason you've cooked?"</p><p>Draco looked up at her with pointed stare, his mouth full of bread. Hermione couldn't help but notice the fickle remainders of sleep in his eyes and how his hair still stuck up no matter how much it seemed he had tried to smooth it.</p><p>"I was hungry." He swallowed the toast dryly. "I'm also not sure if it is classed as cooking, waving my wand and throwing the food onto some fine china isn't exactly chef-worthy."</p><p>"For a moment i thought you'd possessed the soul of Gordon Ramsey" Hermione bit into her toast and <em>Dear</em><em> God</em> did it taste nice. The last thing she could remember eating was left-over fish pie Graham had cooked hours before his death.</p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow. "Gord- Who?"</p><p>Hermione shook her hand in dismissal. Draco was the least Muggle person she knew. Chef's didn't exist in the wizarding world. They had Elves for that.</p><p>Tension fell between them. Awkward and sly. It was the first time they had actually sat together in a passive way since the day on the deck of the boat. It seemed as though both of them didn't know what to say.</p><p>It continued that way for ten minutes. Hermione silently chewing on her food while Draco leaned back on the chair with a Daily Prophet in his hands. Hermione questioned how he had a <em>recent</em> Daily Prophet, as the date was settled in the was dated as December. She assumed he had conjured it. His fingers were gripping the paper so hard it seems as though his knuckles were turning red.</p><p>Hermione squinted to see the headline and hated the bitter feeling of bile that settled into her stomach.</p><p>
  <b>"</b>
  <b>
    <em>Hogwart's school deemed under-control with the new authority of Professor Snape and Alecto and Amycus Carrow.</em>
  </b>
  <b>"</b>
</p><p>"Have you met Alecto and Amycus Carrow, Malfoy?" Hermione asked while she sipped on a cup of water.</p><p>He looked up from the paper, closing it while he sighed. He set it onto the table beside his empty plate.</p><p>"A few times too many." He thought for a moment before speaking. "They were never too <em>pleasant</em>."</p><p>Loading the information in her head for a short moment, Hermione pressed on, "And why was it them chosen to be shipped of to Hogwarts to <em>torture</em> the students?"</p><p>"I can't be sure, but probably because they are <em>cruel</em>. Amycus used to whisper jinxes at me from beneath the table while Voldemort spoke." Draco ran his tongue over his bottom lip while he stared pointedly at Hermione from across the table, obviously trying to seize what she would do with the information he fed her. "They run off Dark Magic. Their bones feed from it."</p><p>She nodded. It made sense. They seemed awfully cold and callous from what she had heard about them. It only made her stomach sink more with guilt at the thought of her friends having to be in their presence.</p><p>Knowing that an individual sitting a metre away from her on the table was ever associated with these types of people made Hermione feel infirm.</p><p>The information lingered in her head for a moment and she suddenly couldn't stomach anymore of her breakfast.</p><p>"Are you going to tell me <em>where</em> we are yet?" Her voice was careful. Wherever they were, it seemed to bother him. He was ridden with uncomfortably and stress.</p><p>He sighed. Hermione watched his fingers prod at the corner of the Newspaper beside him.</p><p>"A safe-house."</p><p>"What kind of safe-house? Owned by who?" She didn't care that she was pressing for information now. She was too curious. It was bothering her too much.</p><p>"If you let me fucking speak i'll tell you?" One of his eyebrows was cocked up higher than the other. "As you are probably aware my mother grew up living at Grimmauld Place with her cousins and sisters."</p><p>Hermione nodded, she was more than aware of the house. It was <em>her</em> safe-place for a while. She shared it with members of the Order, including her Best-Friends. She wondered if that's where Ron and Harry were now.</p><p>"She grew up with the family, Bellatrix, Andromena, my Grandmother Druella." He clears his throat as if he was scared of revealing too much. "But my mother hated it there, she loathed it."</p><p>Hermione pursed her lips together. The Black family were rather complicated. A big family, consisting of sisters and brothers and cousins and husbands. She had never understood it with much defiance.</p><p>"Druella was cruel to my mother, she favoured Bellatrix, I think." Draco eyed Hermione's reaction, but she was passive, simply listening and absorbing the information.</p><p>It was the first time Draco had been so honest with her, other than his outburst of affection towards his mother.</p><p>"So instead of residing in the Black house in Grimmuald Place, she moved here for a majority of the time. Created the house from the bottom up, taught herself spells to hide it within the walls of the other buildings." Draco seemed to be shaking as he spoke of his mother.</p><p>"She moved here alone?" Hermione asked. There were three bedrooms that had been occupied. </p><p>Draco shook his head, taking a sip of water.</p><p>"She hid from the toxic abilities of the Black family with my second cousin, Regulus." Hermione's mind tingled with the memory of the name on the Black tapestry in Grimmauld Place. "He resided in the bedroom beside my mother's. He was rather young from what i know. Much younger than her."</p><p>Draco took another sip of water. His other hand still plucked at the Newspaper.</p><p>"But he died the age I am now." Hermione opened her mouth as he finished speaking but Draco spoke to stop her words from tumbling out. "I don't know how or why he died. My mother never disclosed that information to me."</p><p>So Regulus Black was, or <em>knew</em> of the owner of the wand she had found beneath the bed. She questioned for a moment how it had never been found before now. And why his room was left untouched.</p><p>She reminded herself a tactic of mourning was leaving rooms exactly how they were the remember the soul who resided between the walls.</p><p>Hermione felt her chest twinge with guilt for touching the belongings.</p><p>"Was he a good wizard?" Hermione hinted at the <em>question</em> she wanted to know. Draco saw right through her.</p><p>"I don't know if he vouched for the Dark Lord if that's what you're asking." Draco spoke with his teeth touching. "I was told to stay clear of his room. From the putrid smell of dark magic that lingers in-front of his bedroom door, i assume the answer to your question was he was not so pure."</p><p>Hermione nodded once more. She remembered the handprint on the mirror and the third bedroom with unnerving sketches in the draw. Her mind was smart, and she knew the answer deep down when she remembered Draco pressing a sketch to her chest in the snow of the hotel.</p><p>"The small bedroom?" Draco's eyes caught her own for a moment. They sparkled with memories. "Who occupied that room?"</p><p>"My room. I told you my mother would let me escape from the drama at the Manor. This is where she'd bring me." Draco pushed a hand through his white hair. It exposed his forehead. Hermione let her stare linger. "After Regulus' death my mother tried to turn this place into a safe-haven for me. We would paint, she would tell me to draw things that made me happy, I drew things from school, animals..."</p><p><em>A sketch of me in first year?</em> Hermione frowned. She couldn't be sure. She felt stupid for even thinking it.</p><p>"Anyway, Granger." His open demeanour had shut off once more. "Stop being nosey, it's annoying. Go make yourself useful and practice spells or something, maybe figure out how to make a warming charm last more than an hour."</p><p>He was back to lacing his words with venom. Hermione didn't care about that. She cared that he had noticed the falter in her magic.</p><p>"Would i make myself useful by asking if you know anything about this?" Hermione stood, striding to the velvet sofa which was her bed the night before.</p><p>The wand fell into her hand and when she turned to face Draco, his hands are balled into tight fists.</p><p>"What the fuck is that?"</p><p>Hermione scoffed, twirling it in her fingers. It felt addicting. Like the power from the wand was drifting through her veins and into her bloodstream. A similar feeling to what she felt in Olivander's all those years ago <br/>choosing the wand that would be her companion in life.</p><p>Not quite as definite, though.</p><p>"I found it in what must have been Regulus' room, hidden under the bed. Was this his wand?" Hermione placed it down onto the table.</p><p>Draco stared at it, but didn't dare to reach forward and pluck it up with his hands yet.</p><p>"That wasn't his wand from what I saw in photographs." Draco's head cocked to the side. "From what i'm aware, in photographs, it was brown with a white marble handle. Not <em>that</em>."</p><p>Draco's eyes hadn't left Hermione's face since she had sat back down at the table. It felt threatening like he was trying to seize her thoughts and figures, like he was trying to decipher why the fuck she was snooping in Regulus' room or why she was so interested in the wand.</p><p>Draco reached forward and scooped the wand up with his hand. The jewel scratched against the table, leaving a brittle dent in the wood.</p><p>He tossed it from hand to hand carefully. His fingers wrapped around the wood, flexing his knuckles.</p><p>She wondered if he could also feel the strange aura radiating from it.</p><p>"Elm." Draco mused. He looked at Hermione with a half-smirk. "Elm wood."</p><p>Hermione didn't know Draco had an interest in wands or their elements. She assumed he didn't, but he was smarter than her in things like this. It bothered her.</p><p>She wanted to speak, but Draco continued.</p><p>"I think elm wands prefer owners with presence, magical dexterity and a certain native dignity." Hermione hadn't realised she had leaned over the table in interest. "Of all wand woods, elm regards the fewest accidents, the least foolish stupid errors and the most elegant charms and spells; these are sophisticated wands, capable of highly advanced magic in the right hands"</p><p>Hermione hated that the knowledge radiating from Draco's mind was attractive to her. She hated that it made him far more attractive than she had realised. Clearing her throat, she then gulped.</p><p>"Seems to me whoever had this wand, be in Regulus or someone else, had a reason for it. Highly advanced magic, no errors, maybe they had a task, or a reason—"Hermione was still listening with vigour. "—Or it could mean nothing."</p><p>"How do you know all of <em>that</em>?" Her words were drifted out under a scoff. He frowned. "Sorry Malfoy, but you were never known for your intelligence in topics like this."</p><p>"There was little to do when my mother brought me here. I studied." He sad forward in his chair, a cast of light echoing from the broken window next to the kitchen fridge poured against his white skin.</p><p>It reminded her of winter. She realised Draco reminded her of winter as a whole. She pushed the thought away.</p><p>"Mother would question me on wand types, charms, defensive spells." He was still leaning closer. Suddenly the table seemed awfully smaller. Draco's face seemed too close.</p><p>He ran a tongue over his bottom lip as he picked up the mystery wand and pressed its tip to Hermione's forehead. It tingled on her skin like an Enigma. He let go of the wand, and Hermione caught it in her hands.</p><p>"I'm smarter than you think, Mudblood." The use of the insult actually shocked Hermione this time. He hadn't used it in so long. "Now, do the dishes and stop being so fucking nosey."</p><p>He stood, walking towards the exist of the dining room. His feet were bare, Hermione once again cringed at how cold they must have been.</p><p>She had more questions. <em>Many</em> more. She didn't want to let Draco simply escape and ignore her for the rest of the day while he mind bubbled over in curiously, so she jumped from the chair, running and standing in-front of Draco's body by the door.</p><p>He looked down at her with a glint of annoyance in his eye.</p><p>"Malfoy, what if this wand is important? What if it was left beneath his bed for a reason?" Her words tumbled so fast Draco could just about understand her. His head was cocked to the side once more. "What if it could help, what if Regul-"</p><p>Draco gripped her shoulders with his hand and slammed her against the wall. It knocked the wind from her chest.</p><p>"Will you ever be rational Granger?" His breath was hot like smoke on her skin. He was rather close. So close Hermione thought...<em>no</em>, she ignored the idea as much as it interested her. "I'm not about to sit here and think of childish ideas and fondle with the idea of helping the Order."</p><p>His trailed his pointer finger down the side of her face.</p><p>"Even if I ran from Voldemort—" His finger paused at the edge of her lip. She didn't know why she wasn't trying to push him away this time. "I will never help the good guys. <em>Ever</em>."</p><p>He leaned in. Hermione panicked. This didn't seem rational, this didn't seem normal. He couldn't possibly be trying to kiss her in a moment like this, <em>right</em>?</p><p>Her heartbeat stopped as his lips ghosted hers. She tasted peppermint.</p><p>He scoffed, the air lingered on Hermione's lips.</p><p>"I would and will never give you the satisfaction of helping a <em>Mudblood</em>".</p><p>And with that, he was shoving her away, storming up the stairs to not be seen for the rest of the day.</p><p>—</p><p>        </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Nine.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The feeling of Draco's breath had lingered on Hermione's lips for a few minuscule hours afterward. It made her feel violently sick.</p><p>But she wasn't sure why.</p><p>It had seemed like a ploy for power on Draco's part. He had clearly enjoyed pushing her against walls and dominate her whenever Hermione showed one once of authority to challenge him.</p><p>He was simply a wolf fighting for his territory.</p><p>She knew that. That it didn't mean anything but <em>that</em>. That Draco was a cruel boy just like his father, that Draco enjoyed to head-fuck people to get himself to the top. She knew that.</p><p>It still made her stomach bubble.</p><p>It pained Hermione that she had run from Hogwarts to avoid the problems of the war, but she still had so many fucking problems in her mind to do with matters she had never even considered to be a possibility in her escape.</p><p>Her magic was...faltering. She deemed this to be down to her stress. Magical ability always depended on stress and power and authority. She had too much <em>stress</em>. She hoped that was the reason.</p><p>Draco was being an insufferable twat like always. He constantly confused her, told her he would never help a '<em>Mudblood</em>' but then continues to let her hide away in his mother's home. Told her he hated her then ghosts his lips across her own. Told her to leave him alone but continued to cook her breakfast every morning for a week.</p><p>And not to mention the new found need for information at finding a mysterious powerful wand in Regulus Blacks previous bedroom. It toyed in her mind constantly. Something inside of her told her it was rather important, that it was made to be found by someone like <em>her</em>. She just didn't have to resources to figure out how or why.</p><p>Hermione had remembered the letters she had found inside of Regulus' room and had hoped it would have helped her in figuring out the importance of the wand. It didn't. The contents of the letters had all been removed by a concealing spell, all but one.</p><p>
  <em>Thank you. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>The job is done. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>— R.A.B</em>
</p><p>When she had asked Draco if he knew what the task could've been, he scoffed and told her to leave him alone with such 'nonsensical questions.'</p><p>Being out of control was not a strong-point for Hermione. It had been the reason she had tried to drown herself in the Black Lake, after all.</p><p>—</p><p>"Stop it." His voice cracked through the room.</p><p>She looked up at him with furrowed brows as she swallowed her toast dryly. "Stop what?"</p><p>Draco groaned. Mist fell from his lips. Hermione had become accustomed to the cold of the house so she hadn't noticed it freezing temperatures anymore.</p><p>"Thinking so much." He eyed her as he gripped the Daily Prophet in his hands. His knuckles were white.</p><p>She had felt a little sick at the headline, but tried her best to ignore it.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>"Danger in the Ministry as Death Eaters continue to take control."</em>
  </b>
</p><p>"I'm not thinking." Hermione shot back, pushing the white plate away from her. Draco's attitude had easily made her loose her appetite.</p><p>"You are." He rolled his eyes and bit on his bottom lip. "I can practically see the thoughts swarming that putrid little brain of yours."</p><p>He was right. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of thinking so.</p><p>"Granger, give it up already." He continued, his eyes glancing over at the wand beside Hermione's plate. She hadn't realised she was carrying it with her everywhere she went. "Are you really <em>still</em> that bothered by that stupid wand?"</p><p>Hermione nodded, picking it up in her hands. It tingled her fingers like always.</p><p>"Do you know it's core?" Hermione asked, watching as Draco folded the paper in half and placed it beside his empty plate. "Elm wood, rare, but it's core? I can't seem to tell myself. Wands aren't my strongest subject. Someone like Oll-"</p><p>"Stop waffling and hand it here." He held out his hand. Hermione's stare lingered at the cracks and scars on his palm. Draco held the wand for a minute or two, once again tossing it from hand to hand. For a moment she thinks he's going to try and cast a spell when he held it out in-front of him, but he didn't. That would've been stupid. "It's hard to tell."</p><p>Hermione could tell that it bothered him. The fact he couldn't quite work out the elements of the wand. A bruise to his ego.</p><p>"Definitely not unicorn hair-" He pursed his lips before glancing over at Hermione. "Hand me your wand."</p><p>She moved quickly to grab her wand from the sofa, handing it to him. He held both wands in his hands and sized them up beside one another.</p><p>"Dragon heartstring core, if i remember correctly?" Hermione nodded at his question. "Definitely not <em>that</em> then."</p><p>"Then maybe Phoenix Feather?"</p><p>Draco shook his head, placing both wands down onto the black table. He seemed annoyed. His jaw rolled before he spoke.</p><p>"Maybe, but Phoenix Feather was the core of my mother's wand. The characteristic of this wand feels rather different. I can't place it." He huffed, rolling up the sleeve of his black sweater on one arm. Hermione visually cringed at the tattoo-like mark that sat on his skin. "Maybe it's something else, like Veela Hair or Troll Whisker."</p><p>"Ollivander tends to usually only make wands with the core of Unicorn Hair, Dragon Heartstring or Phoenix Feather." She mused, staring at Draco who seemed visually tense and annoyed. Like always.</p><p>"Maybe it wasn't made by Ollivander." Draco huffed, rolling his eyes. "Would you shut up about this stupid wand if we went and found out more about it?"</p><p>Hermione paused. She thought for a moment. Dangerous, leaving the confinement of the safe house and to a vivid wizards location.</p><p>"You'd do that?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.</p><p>Draco laughed. Not a funny laugh, yet one of sarcasm and grit.</p><p>"No, don't be <em>stupid</em>, you think I'd take you to Ollivanders when there are Death Eaters stalking the streets of Diagon Alley, the same Death Eaters that are trying to kill me? If you wanna die, go yourself."</p><p>The mention of Death Eaters reminded her that Theodore Nott tried to find and kill his best-friend. One who sat opposite to Hermione on the round table.</p><p>She hadn't realised Theodore Nott was a Death Eater at all.</p><p>She had to bite her tongue to refrain from asking questions about him. She'd save that for another day.</p><p>"Do you know anything more about Regulus?" Hermione asked after a few curt moments. "He seems so...abstruse."</p><p>Draco seemed as though he didn't want to reply. Yet he still did.</p><p>"He died a year before I was born, my mother would only tell me brief stories." Draco shrugged, standing from his seat to dump his plate in the sink. He cleaned it with a flick of his wand before levitating Hermione's plate to where he stood in the kitchen and doing the same. "She wouldn't speak much of his magical abilities, just that he was kind and kept her safe. They spent a lot of time together, I guess he became a brother to her."</p><p>Now they were both dead.</p><p>It seemed suspicious.</p><p>"He didn't leave any letters? A note? Do you even know how he died?" Hermione pressed on. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose as she spoke. "Narcissa would've told you that much, right?"</p><p>Draco slammed his hand down against the cracked material on the kitchen counter. The cutlery shook from its force and a fork fell and landed on the floor with a clang.</p><p>"What's your problem, Granger?" He seethed as he spoke, like the words pained him. "All you do is ask questions I don't know the fucking answer to!"</p><p>Draco turned to face her. His jaw was flexed angrily, and his eyebrows furrowed deep down onto his face. A glint of grey morning light seeped through the window beside him and cast a shadow on the left side of his face. She could see the texture on his skin, around his eyes and lips and small little bumps on his cheeks. It made him look like a marble statue. Hermione couldn't deny he looked comely.</p><p>It was absolutely infuriating.</p><p>He looked like a raged simulacrum.</p><p>"I'm sorry for simply being curious, Malfoy." Her words were just as raged as his own. "If you didn't notice, there is a war coming, people are going to die and if I can piece some things together to help then-"</p><p>"Then go back to Potter and Weasley if you want to help out and be a good guy!" He interrupted her, his voice cracking in the cold room and making the walls shake. "You know i'm not a fucking good guy, so stop trying to make out like you want me to care!"</p><p>"Stop acting like you're so infirm!" She shot back, rising from her chair to meet his level. He was still taller than her. "You're allowed to help, you're allowed to care, you don't have to keep up this big bad buy act when you're around me, Malfoy. This isn't school anymore. Things have changed."</p><p>He shook his head.</p><p>"You're <em>insane</em>, do you know that?" He took a small step closer to her. "Why aren't you with Potter and Weasley anyway? Is it because you're so infuriating and won't keep your nose out of places that aren't meant to be snooped in?"</p><p>She paused.</p><p>"T-they didn't need my help for their chosen task." She gulped. The feeling of loneliness and sadness creeped back into her.</p><p>The anger in the room dissolved quickly.</p><p>"They are doing something important - They didn't tell me what." She gulped again, her eyes lingered on Malfoy's unreadable expression before dropping to the floor. "I guess they didn't want me to interfere."</p><p>"I guess they decided you'd be no good searching for Horcruxes when you've become so shit at magic you can't even cast a warming charm successfully."</p><p>He pushed past her. She stood frozen.</p><p>"What?" Her voice caught him before he could leave the room. "That's what they're doing? How do you- How would you know that?"</p><p>Hermione felt her insides twist. She can't believe she was so stupid she didn't piece it together.</p><p>Harry had told Hermione and Ron about the concept of Voldemort's Horcruxes last year just after Dumbledore's death. She hadn't thought about that being the reason for their departure from the school. Because, they would have told her...right?</p><p>She felt betrayed.</p><p>"I told you, i'm smarter than you think." His lips twisted up in an angry smirk. "Or maybe I found a special book in one of the rooms a few nights ago. It wasn't then hard to put the pieces together."</p><p>Hermione's mouth opened and then closed.</p><p>The book in Regulus room. She had forgotten to collect it from the floor the day she had found it beneath the bed. She wants to pinch herself in anger.</p><p>"You know, if I took this information back to the Dark Lord he would probably spare my life." Hermione hadn't realised Draco had stepped back towards her. He was about an arms reach away. "He would be grateful if he knew I obtained this information."</p><p>"So you'll go?" It felt hard to say. The thought of him leaving now was absurd. Even though it shouldn't be. She had told herself to refuse to become attached to his company. "You'll go back to the Death Eaters?"</p><p>He stepped closer. He shrugged.</p><p>"No."</p><p>"And why's that?" Her eyes lingered on his face longer than they should have. She didn't realise her teeth were chattering. "You hate me, you hate Harry and Ron, you hate the Order. You have a reason to go back now, so why won't you?"</p><p>"I may hate you, but i think i would hate it more to see you loose yourself in this war."</p><p>The words lingered in her ears the same way the moon lingers in the sky hours after the sun has risen.</p><p>—</p><p>A few days went by.</p><p>Hermione assumed Christmas must be soon. She had tried to cast a time spell to find the date, but it didn't work. She had tried to conjure a calendar, but instead, a ripped shred of parchment fell into her lap.</p><p>The days were weird. Draco would disappear for an hour or two at a time. Maybe more. She couldn't work out if he was leaving the house, or simply hiding in the shadows of his childhood hide-away bedroom. Maybe it was both. She had tried to not find it in her to care.</p><p>When Draco wasn't lingering in the living room or the hallways, she tried to practice simple spells. Alohamora to open the doors, sometimes it worked, some it didn't. She tried to conjure simple items, like a quill and paper, only once getting a successful result.</p><p>She knew she should be more worried.</p><p>It was nightfall when Hermione picked her wand from the kitchen counter. She had noticed the piles of snow threatening to deep through the cracks on the window. She was so cold. Her teeth chattered. Her fingers felt numb. She didn't care.</p><p>It annoyed her that she didn't <em>care</em>.</p><p>She realised this is what Draco must feel like. Accustomed to the way the snow numbs the senses. Now, she almost enjoyed it.</p><p>Her wand shook in her hand as she pointed it out in-front of her, her elbow twitching as it straightened. She pointed it towards a fork on the table, it's silver colour tainted by the yellow light. It sparkled, almost taunting her.</p><p>With a deep breath, she whispered "<em>Flintifors</em>."</p><p>The spell botches. Rather than the fork transfiguring into a matchbox like the spell instructs it to, it's silver colour transformed into a brown card, but still remained in its initial shape.</p><p>She huffed in annoyance.</p><p>"Maybe you're cursed." A low voice shook Hermione, causing her to almost drop her wand. Draco stalked into the kitchen, twisting his wand in one hand. "Or maybe you really aren't the brightest witch of our age, <em>anymore</em>."</p><p>Her eyes narrowed to slits as she watched Draco walk towards her.</p><p>He looked down at the cardboard matchbox with a raised brow before aiming his sleek wand at it, whispering the spell. Hermione watched as it transfigured successfully into a matchbox.</p><p>"Yep." Draco nodded, shooting her a sarcastic smile with his lips closed. "You're cursed."</p><p>"I am not cursed." Hermione dejected. "It's probably just stress."</p><p>Draco shrugged. Hermione thinks he's trying to act as though he was not interested, but the slight twinkle in his eye told her differently.</p><p>"Maybe a recent lack of practice." He mused, looking down at her. He paused, before his brows rise once again like he had thought of something great. "Duel me."</p><p>A gasp escaped Hermione's lips. "Duel <em>you</em>?"</p><p>Draco started to smirk.</p><p>He let his hand rise and before she had a moment to protest, he pressed the tip of his wand into Hermione's throat.</p><p>"Don't tell me you don't wanna hex the fuck out of me?" The tip of his wand bounced against the gentle thud of the pulse in her neck. "I <em>know</em> you want to."</p><p>"I probably can't." Pushing the wand from her skin, she leaned against the kitchen counter, twisting her wand anxiously in her fingers.</p><p>Draco scoffed. "Don't take this in the nice way, Granger, but I saw you trap a troll, fight off three-hundred Cornish pixies, you even used the De Facto spell to set Snape's robes on fire when you were like eleven years old."</p><p>He paused before continuing. "You're telling me you can't even turn a fork into a matchbox?"</p><p>"It's none of your business." She tried to walk away, feeling embarrassed. He was quick enough to grip her arm and pull her back.</p><p>"Maybe you just need to dig deeper, push into your soul and force the magic out. I'm a great target, you <em>hate</em> me, you'll feel compelled to Hex me to the wall, right?" Hermione stared up at him. She questioned inwardly why he would care to help her. Maybe he noticed this as well, because he cleared his throat before adding. "Plus, if we were to be found by the Death Eaters again, I'd want to be sure i am with someone who can keep me from being hit with an Avada."</p><p>"Fine." Agreeing may have been a stupid idea. Or it could have been a great one. Hermione was slightly scared to find out. "In the hallway, I don't want to damage any plates."</p><p>The hallway was rather dim. Dust collected on the bottom of Hermione's bare feet.</p><p>She stood adjacent to the opening towards the kitchen, whereas Draco stood by the front door. He started at her while he gripped his wand in his right hand.</p><p>Hermione watched him bend his knees and point his wand towards her. She did the same. She felt nervous.</p><p>Her wand trembled in her hand.</p><p>Draco cocked his head to the side and smirked.</p><p>"Show me what you've got, Rose."</p><p>With a gulp, she yelled, "Stupefy!"</p><p>Her wrist felt as though it had been electrocuted. The spell shot and bounced against the walls before smashing a frame that held sketch by the front door. Draco scoffed, pushing his head to the side to crack his neck before he bent his knees again and spoke.</p><p>"Dive into your soul, <em>Rose</em>." The fact he was calling her Rose and not Granger made her tremble even more. It reminded her of death. Yet, it also made her feel safe in some weird terrible fucked up way. "Think of me standing there with my wand pointed at Dumbled-"</p><p>"Confringo!" White shot from the tip of her wand, it was unstable and it missed Draco's shoulder by half an inch. The pain in her wrist magnified and moved further up her arm as a result of the botched spell.</p><p>"Incarcerous!" Draco's voice echoed across the walls.</p><p>Hermione gasped when her body was thrown back against the wall, three binds of rope wrapped around her torso, slicking her arms against her body.</p><p>Any words had been knocked out of her. Her body felt like it was on fire, the ropes were digging into her skin like a bruise. She wanted to scream, she wanted to rip them from her body and run from Draco. She was furious. Embarrassed.</p><p>Draco walked towards her. He looked rather proud with himself.</p><p>He stopped abruptly in-front of Hermione. Seizing her, he looked her up and down. She grimaces as she thought he was eying her with a callous smile.</p><p>Cold like ice, his finger touched her cheek. Fingers that still tingled with the essence of magic he had just used. She hated that she couldn't draw her eyes from his stare.</p><p>"You were awful, then." HIs breath brushed past Hermione's lips. <em>Again</em>.</p><p>With his chest rubbing against the robes on her torso, she could smell pine. Like the smell of rain against pine trees, so strong it made her want to double over.</p><p>He also smelt like evil and fury.</p><p>His fingers slid down her face, then down her chest before moving to her bound arm and to her hand. She panicked when his palm enveloped hers before realising he was slipping her wand from her fingers and into his own.</p><p>He coughed awkwardly when he realised how close they were.</p><p>"I think it may be your wand." He seemed breathless. The spell he cast wouldn't have made him breathless. "D-defected maybe."</p><p>Hermione finally took a breath and spoke while she continued to struggle against the result of Draco's Incarcerous spell.</p><p>"My wand wouldn't be defected. My wand trusts me and i trust it." He finally uses his wand to bid the robes. They evaporated and Hermione stumbles forward, landing on his chest. She scrambled away before she even had chance to comprehend it.</p><p>"Wands are fickle." Draco spoke. The dim yellow light in the hallway fell across his jaw that rolled as he spoke. "It could easily be defected, happened to a few of the Death Eaters, they're wands decided to defy them once they bid they're loyalty to the Dark Arts."</p><p>It made sense. As much as Hermione didn't want it to.</p><p>"Try using mine for one spell." Draco held his wand out in-front of him on his palm. Hermione took a second to admire the two-toned colour and the smoothness of the wood.</p><p>She eyed him suspiciously. Using another's wand could be viewed as something intimate or something evil. Maybe a mixture of the both. He rolled his eyes before speaking, the yellow light casted over his lips, glowing his teeth. Hermione gulped at the thought.</p><p>"For fuck sake Granger, just try it." He shoved the wand against her chest. "I'm not prepared to watch you die at the hands of a Death Eater because you decided to be too proud."</p><p>She gripped his wand in her hand, shooting him a solemn look. The feeling of his wand in her hand felt awfully ravish. It felt wrong. It didn't belong to her.</p><p>Yet, when she whispered "<em>Titillando</em>" and Draco fell against the wall with uncomfortable laughter. She knew, he was right. She tried another spell. It worked. Not perfectly, but it worked much better than any spell she had tried to cast with her own wand in the past few weeks.</p><p>"I told you." Draco's face became too proud as he wrapped his palm around Hermione's fist, again, to peel his wand from her grip. "You're wand is defected. Probably just doesn't like you anymore."</p><p>Her hands shake with rage. She didn't know why she felt betrayed by her wand. But she did. Her wand had been with her for nearly ten years. Everyday. By her side. In her pocket. In her hand. She felt more than betrayed. She felt confused and sick at the thought.</p><p>"Your wand still didn't perform accordingly, though, Malfoy." Hermione mused, watching him lean against the dark wall. A framed sketch swings when he knocked it with his shoulder.</p><p>"Because it hasn't dedicated its locality to you, it's loyal to me as it's the owner. But it still worked much better than your own." He shrugged, trying to seem inoculant about the topic.</p><p>But Hermione saw right through him. He was <em>thinking</em>. Thinking so hard his eyebrows furrowed against his forehead, until it seemed as though he hit a wall of realisation.</p><p>"Granger, wait here." He stalked away back into the kitchen. Appearing moments later behind her, she didn't bother to turn to face him. "Duel me again."</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes. Annoyance threatened to pick at the back of her head.</p><p>"And why should I? You just told me my wand hates my guts." Hermione gulped. "If you wanna curse me so badly then just fucking do it."</p><p>Draco scoffed, twisting around her body so her eyes landed against his own. They twinkled. With rage or mischief, she couldn't quite tell.</p><p>"Not with your wand." He spoke, tutting at the end of his sentence. He shook his head. "With this one."</p><p>He held up the wand with the yellow jewel, a smirk on his lips.</p><p>She gawked at him as he pushed it towards her.</p><p>"I can't, Malfoy." Her hair swung against her cheeks as she shook her head. She couldn't comprehend using a wand to which she didn't know the owner, the maker, or even the core. "That's very dangerous, we don't know anything about this wand."</p><p>He shrugged. His free hand wrapped around his neck as he scratched the back of his head as he spoke. His eyes were still staring straight into Hermione's. Taunting her like a plague.</p><p>"You need to learn to not care, Granger." He pushed the wand closer to her until its tip was nearly flat against her chest. "We both know a war is coming, we both know we cannot stay in here and hide forever. If you don't want to learn to protect yourself, you can fucking leave. I'm not about to be killed because you care too much."</p><p>He was right. She <em>knew</em> that. But she also knew that this wand had the power to kill simply from reaching out and taking it from Draco's hands.</p><p>It burnt against her skin like fire.</p><p>Yet, it burnt with desire. With vigor and virtue.</p><p>It made her feel...unstoppable. That she couldn't try to deny.</p><p>Draco had already started walking back to his spot in-front of the door. He bent his knees before pointing his wand towards her.</p><p>She hesitantly bent her knees. The wand jittered in her hand with nerves.</p><p>Yet when the yellow-green jewel pressed against the skin on her palm, radiating against her with authority she cocked her head to the side.</p><p>"Show me what you've got, Anchor." She mocked his previous words.</p><p>He grinned at her words.</p><p>Draco was yelling out, Hermione didn't hear which spell he cast but she blocked the red light like it was child's play.</p><p>"Stupefy!" The words roared from her stomach.</p><p>She watched a cast of white shoot from the wand, hot and bright. Yet, unlike the usual appearance of a stupefy spell, was mingled with black shadows.</p><p>Hermione had never felt so much force. It nearly knocked her back several feet. She heard Draco's body hit the the door with a crack, he had split the wood from the top down and he landed on his stomach with a grunt.</p><p>Hermione couldn't help but smirk.</p><p>Draco peeled himself from the floor, cracking his neck as he stood with a grunt. His ego looked bruised. Yet he looked glad as he spoke.</p><p>"Looks like that wand was left here for a reason." He walked towards her with a harrowing demeanour.</p><p>He stopped a few inches from her. His breath scanned her face.</p><p>"Left here, for someone like you."</p><p>—</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>A/N - what do you think the wand is made of? I've given so many hints... I wonder if anyone has figured it out.</em>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Ten.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Hermione ran into the Great-Hall a bright smile on her features.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She looked just as she did last year. Round cheeks and bright eyes. No hollow cheeks. No black hair.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Great-Hall was coated in yellow lights stringing against the columns. The tables were full of students, all smiling, all cheering, all celebrating.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She kept running until her feet landed on the edge of the Gryffindor table.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Without thinking, she had wrapped her arms around Cho Chang's shoulders, then Ron's, Harry's, Ginny's, Seamus'.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And then, she had wrapped her arms around Draco.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He didn't look how he did last year. He looked as he did <b>two</b> years ago. Before he got the mark. Before Dark Magic sucked his soul away. His blonde hair was longer than it was now, cusping his ears. It was boyish. It was beautiful. His lips were plump and red, full of life. Full of happiness.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He looked like a painting.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Well Done, Hermione!" Ginny gasped. "We all knew you would pass with O's!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione was gripping three sheets of white parchment in her hands. Year 7 Exam results. </em>
  <em>It was her biggest goal. To graduate from Hogwarts with flying colours, surrounded by all of her greatest friends in the Great-Hall.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Right now, she was living her biggest dream.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Much better than me, Hermione." Ron scoffed. His cheeks were chubby, his hair long and fiery, hanging over his ears the way Hermione liked it. "We are so proud of you."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then Draco spoke with a soft voice, his eyes dancing over her skin. "I told you that you would do exceptional, Mione."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She felt her heart patter inside of her chest. He was smiling. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen Draco Malfoy's smile.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then, Draco leaned towards her. He grasped her face in his hands.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He had kissed her.</em>
</p><p>Hermione woke with a bouncing heart. It took her a few moments to realise that she had been dreaming.</p><p>Dreaming about normal life. A life with no War. No Voldemort. No Death Eaters. No Dark magic. Not only did she feel sad, she felt confused. Sad because it wasn't real. There would be no graduation from Hogwarts this year and she knew that. She would not get exam results. She knew that. She would not be able to hug all of her friends and congratulate them. She knew that. </p><p>Confused because she would not be kissing Draco Malfoy. That seemed absurd. It seemed feeble. She wanted to laugh at herself and her stupid brain for putting such an image in her head. She also wanted to laugh at her heart for lathering over the thought.</p><p>When she sat up, grasping her chest in her hands, she found a scrap of parchment lying on the coffee table in-front of her.</p><p>It was clear what it was. Clear as day, shining underneath the dim light from the living room chandelier. It had been a while.</p><p>The drawing did not shock her. It confused her even more.</p><p>A sketch of her lying in a grave. A small rose clasped between her thin fingers. It was accompanied by writing like always;</p><p>
  <em>Nobody knew Hermione Granger died. They believed it was Rose Waterlily. Nobody knew Hermione died while Anchor Smith watched. He could not save her. She was too proud to accept help.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>—</em>
</p><p>The thought of leaving the refuge of the Southwark safe-house anytime soon had been something whimsical in Hermione's mind.</p><p>There had been too much risk. Too many bad objectives over good. And not to mention she believed Draco wouldn't step one foot out of the house no matter <em>what</em>.</p><p>Yet she had been wrong.</p><p>Because, a few days after, she woke to Draco tapping her arm. She had been sleeping on the sofa, her hair bunched around her shoulders and falling over her face. He tapped her until she awoke with a gasp, suddenly carrowing into the sheets when she realised Draco's face was a mere few inches from her own.</p><p>"Get up, Granger, we've got business to attend to." He tapped her arm once more before standing and walking to the armchair opposite her. He fell into the plush velvet and crossed his legs. He was already fully dressed. "Seriously, hurry the fuck up, I haven't got all day."</p><p>While sitting, she scoffed. She glared at him through tired eyes.</p><p>He simply sat and waited. Waited with one of his legs crossed over the other, dressed in a black shirt with a long black overcoat that had a thick hood. He wore the familiar black boots on his feet.</p><p>He gripped the daily prophet in his hands, scanning over the words and rolling his eyes every couple of seconds.</p><p>"What business?" She angled her eyes towards him.</p><p>He didn't bother to look up at her.</p><p>"Personal business. I just need you there as an accessory."</p><p>Hermione became confused. She wondered if she was dreaming again. She wasn't. Personal business? At a time like this? Business at a time where she had never seen Draco seen so scared about getting caught....yet he wanted to take her out of the house. For business?</p><p>"Fucking hell Granger, i'm going to visit the friend who took me to the hotel." He still didn't look up at her. "I'm not taking you to get sliced in half by Voldemort or anything so you can stop your pea brain from telling you so."</p><p>That thought didn't cross her mind until now. She continued to glare at him as she used the wand, she wasn't comfortable calling it <em>her</em> wand just yet, to smooth her hair down until it was almost straight.</p><p>"And you think visiting a person who took you to a hotel that occupied Bellatrix Lestrange is a good idea?" While speaking she rose from her seat to grab the hoodie that was hanging over the armchair. She pulled it over her head before whispering a small cleaning charm to wash the sleep from her face. "Sounds like another trap to me, Malfoy."</p><p>He slammed the paper shut before tossing it on the floor in annoyance. Finally glaring up at her, he stood from the seat. He dug a finger into her collarbone as he spoke.</p><p>"This person is someone I trust." His words seethed from between his teeth. He was clearly <em>not</em> in a good mood. "Someone <em>you</em> trust as well, so if you care to stop being so vexatious, i'd appreciate it."</p><p>Hermione held her hands up as she followed him into the hallway. "Ooo, big word for you."</p><p>Someone you trust as well. Hm. Hermione thought for a moment but her mind went blank.</p><p>"We should take a stop at Ollivander's too." She saw his hands shaking at his sides as he spoke.</p><p>He was worried. She knew that. He was scared. She had almost not blamed him, people wanted him captured, most likely taken to be killed. He had the right to be scared. "I know i said Diagon alley is a bad place to visit right now, which it is, but we need to figure out what posses that wand to make it so powerful."</p><p>He paused before holding his wand out in-front of him. Hermione felt the ground shaking before he opened the door and walked onto the street.</p><p>Worry sank into her veins. Her mind flashed back to the image of Draco withering behind Bellatrix's blade, the blood-curling smile on Shunpike's spotted face. Death Eaters could be anywhere. Hiding anywhere. With nefarious minds and actions, ready to kill and hunt.</p><p>Hermione and Draco were their prime targets.</p><p>Yet it felt good to feel the snowfall against her skin. It felt good for the wind to brush past her ears, to tangle up her hair. Being outside felt good. She had almost let it feel like freedom.</p><p>Draco held his wand towards her, then towards him. He whispered something she could not here.</p><p>She watched as his hair turned from white and back to the dark black he had obtained back at the boathouse.</p><p>Hermione hated that this brought her some form of an appraisal. Because staring at him, as he lingered beneath the snow with hair the colour of a raven, it didn't remind her of the man she hated. The Draco she hated. It reminded her of the sad, fucked up, toxic boy she had got to know at the boathouse.</p><p>His words ruin the moment.</p><p>"Are you done being annoying? I can't apparate if your thinking so fucking much. It would slice us both in half."</p><p>She scoffed and stepped towards him. She latched her palm onto his forearm.</p><p>"I'm not thinking." He stared down at her through the length of his nose. "Let's go."</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione nearly slid on a pad of ice when her feet connected with the cobblestone in Diagon Alley.</p><p>It was not how she had remembered the place.</p><p>It was void of all the bright and vivid colours she had remembered. Many of the stores were blown to pieces, windows cracked and broken. It was dim. It was cruel. It was everything it shouldn't be.</p><p>"Hm." Draco spoke, rolling his eyes as he took a careful glance before walking. He kept his head down. "Looks like the Death Eaters had a good time destroying this place even further than i had remembered."</p><p>The thought of Draco assisting in the destruction made her feel dizzy. She tried to remind herself it was before he had decided to run away. It didn't appease her negative thoughts about it.</p><p>"This is awful."</p><p>"Stop wallowing and get over it." He pulled his hood up over his head, it concealed his face. "There's nothing you can do, so just get over it."</p><p>She wondered if Ollivander was still here at all.</p><p>It wouldn't make rational sense. It would be dangerous for him. <em>Very</em> dangerous. But she had learned that Ollivander was a proud man. He wouldn't have been driven out of his store, his home, for the satisfaction of the Dark Arts.</p><p>She had been right. He was too proud. Because the thought the shop was cracked and ridden, a small yellow light still twinkled inside.</p><p>Her fingers trembled when they approached the door, hoods over their heads and eyes facing the floor.</p><p>She tried to not let the memories from before the war drown her.</p><p>The door opened with a small creek, only half way, and Ollivander stuck his eyes around the corner with a careful watched. He looked terrified. His fingers trembled against the wood on the door.</p><p>"Who are you?" His voice was filled with lacerations. With subtle anger, fear and curiosity. "What do you want?"</p><p>"It's me, Hermione." She looked up at him, trying to flash a small smile. She knew she didn't look as he would most likely remember. "Hermione Granger. I visited you last year, just befor—"</p><p>"Quick. Come in." He opened the door fully, wide enough to let her and Draco step inside.</p><p>The store still smelled the same. Like oak, like elm, like wood and pine mixed with the smell magic. New magic. Old magic. Magic in all its highest forms. Hermione took a deep breath, trying to wallow in the smell. It flooded her bones with joy.</p><p>"Hermione Granger." Ollivander's words cracked at the end. He went round to the other side of the desk. His fingers continued to shake. His eyes darted towards Draco, who was still concealed by his dark hood, just a few tuffs of black hair falling into sight.. "It's been a long time. And who is this, is it Potter?"</p><p>Hermione didn't know how to respond. She had pulled her hood down and Ollivander looked visibly shocked by her changed appearance. Dark hair, hollow cheeks. Aging. She wasn't quite sure how he'd react when he discovered she had been accompanied by a notoriously dangerous Death Eater.</p><p>"N-no, not Potter." Her words felt like jelly. She was nervous. She hadn't thought about the implications of running away with Draco Malfoy in a serious setting like this.</p><p>"Oh for fuck sake, stop dilly dallying around the fact, Granger." Draco spat, pulling down his hood so it fell at his shoulders. Hermione mentally held her breath. Yet, Ollivander didn't say anything. He simply stared, eyeing him with a frown.</p><p>Draco looked different too. Black hair, a thinned face. A tense jawline. Maybe Ollivander would not recognise him at all.</p><p>She was wrong.</p><p>"Would you care to explain why you have brought Draco Malfoy into my store, Miss Granger?" His voice was cold. <em>Confused</em>. Her eyes caught him reaching for his wand beneath the counter.</p><p>Draco tutted, rolling his eyes as he stuffed his hands into his coat pocket.</p><p>"Before you try to curse me or some shit, I'm not here to hurt you. The Dark Lord did not send me. The Death Eaters also did not send me." Draco commented, stepping closer towards the counter top before leaning an elbow against it. "We stumbled upon eachother, in-"</p><p>Hermione cut him off before he could continue to spill their secrets. "-We just need some advice from you, Ollivander. You are the greatest wand maker we know."</p><p>The wand maker did not understand. He did not seem jubilant. But he released a deep breath and turned his eyes towards her. He nodded. She continued. "My wand, it's been fighting against me, refusing to react to spells. Botching them. It even burns my wrist when I try."</p><p>Hermione pulled her wand from her pocket and handed it to him. His hands were wrinkled and scarred with years of wand-making. Each scar told a story Hermione would love to hear. But there was no time.</p><p>He held it for a moment. He twisted it in his fingers.</p><p>"I remember giving you this wand." His voice was curt. He seemed more-so puzzled. "It chose you with more determination than I had ever seen, before Potter, of course."</p><p>Hermione nodded. Draco stared between them with pursed lips.</p><p>"But now, it seems it does not belong to you." He continued to swirl it in his hands before clamping his fist around it. "It is...dormant."</p><p>Hermione's chest tightened. She knew that was the reason deep down. She knew Draco was right. But she just didn't want it to be true. Betrayal returned and her mouth fell open.</p><p>"Do you know why?" Draco asked for her, because Hermione seemed to be wordless. "Like—is there a reason why it would decide to not work for her?"</p><p>Ollivander shot him a bitter look of destain. He clearly did not like Draco being in his presence. Hermione did not blame him. But he responded anyhow, aiming his words towards Hermione and not Draco himself.</p><p>"Wands choose the wizard or witch they want to assist. They stick with them, mostly for life. Sometimes wands can decide to change course, change the wizard they want to be loyal to. I've heard of that happening a lot, recently,  I am hoping Hermione's wand is not doing it for the same reason."</p><p>Bile filled her stomach.</p><p>"If you think my wand has decided to reject me because i have joined the Dark Lord, you'd be rather mistaken, Ollivander." She narrowed her eyes at him, feeling offended that anyone would even think such a putrid thing.</p><p>His expression softens. A little. He still glared at Draco every few seconds. Ollivander then used both his hands to hold Hermione's wand between his fingers and before she had gone to deject, he was snapping it in two.</p><p>She felt as though she was going to faint.</p><p>Her wand. <em>Her </em>wand. The wand that had accompanied her for life. The wand that had battled the problems when finding the philosopher's Stone. The wand that had set Snape's robes on fire in a bid to save her best friend from breaking his neck. The wand that had—that had done many things to save her.</p><p>It now sat in two pieces on the wooden countertop.</p><p>Draco appeared to notice the tears welling up inside of her. He rolled his eyes, but still spoke. "Was that really necessary? She could have at least kept it as a keep sake or something to prod herself wi-"</p><p>"There is no use keeping a dormant wand." Ollivander spoke calmly, interrupting Draco before he had a chance to finish. The glow from the snow through the smashed window illuminated his face. It looked ridden with stress and fear. "It could cause more harm than good."</p><p>Draco stepped even closer to the counter. Ollivander took one step backwards.</p><p>"We think we know why her wand decided to reject her." Draco shot Hermione a glance, nodding his head at her through tired eyes. "We need your help in detecting it."</p><p>Hermione dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out the wand. Ollivander eyed it suspiciously as she placed it against the counter next to the broken wand. The jewel clanged against the wood.</p><p>"We found this wand." Draco said, his voice low and tense. "I detected the wood to be elm, but the core—we cannot tell."</p><p>Ollivander hummed. He seemed suspicious. He seemed careful. He had not yet plucked the wand up from the counter.</p><p>"And where did you find this wand?" His old eyes bore into Draco. Like he was trying to piece it together.</p><p>"So you can confirm you did not make it?" Hermione asked, her fingers playing together by her stomach.</p><p>Ollivander scoffed.</p><p>"I don't regularly use...<em>jewels</em>, in my wands."He leaned closer to it, squinting. "Yet, that doesn't quite look like a jewel...I can't place it."</p><p>When Ollivander stepped towards counter again and reached forward to pick it up, his hand lingered for a moment, almost as though he could feel the magic radiating from it. He let his hand clasp around it.</p><p>He screamed.</p><p>The wand hit the floor by Hermione's feet. She scrambled to pick it up.</p><p>"Why would you bring <em>that</em> here!" Ollivander seemed breathless. Like he was shocked. Like he had been betrayed. "Why would you allow such dark magic to enter my store!"</p><p>Confusion ran over both Hermione and Draco's features.</p><p>"W-we don't know it's elements. We aren't-"</p><p>"The elements are dangerous. So <em>so</em> dangerous, child." He shook his head. He still seemed frantic. Like his body had been shocked by the power of the wand. "I haven't seen a wand so powerful in a while. It's dangerous."</p><p>"Will you just fucking tell us what all the fuss is about?" Draco sneered, stepping forward to grab Ollivander's shirt front in his fist, pulling him up to meet his eyes.</p><p>Hermione was scared. She thought Draco was going to headbutt him. Yet, he dropped Ollivander and chuckled as she watched the old man nearly fall to the floor.</p><p>Sadness hit Hermione in the centre of her chest. She had always remembered Ollivander as being a chirpy, positive man, with eyes that sparkled while dissecting wands and pairing them to wizards. Now, now he seemed old. Old and weak.</p><p>It was the reflection of the war in his eyes rather than the reflection of joy.</p><p>"T-the maker is not clear. The jewel, or shall i say the non-jewel is made with something i cannot detect but i know it's dangerous and powerful. It almost feels as though it's being <em>hunted</em>." The wand maker spoke as he stared down at the wand in Hermione's hand.</p><p>"It's core is—it's core is Basilisk Fang." Ollivander continued.</p><p>A shiver ran down Hermione's spine.</p><p>"It has now pledged its loyalty to you, Hermione Granger."</p><p>—</p><p>After departing from Ollivander's shop, Hermione felt dazed. She wasn't sure if it was the flood of memories, the ideology of destruction or the fact the wand maker had declared the wand to be her own. Maybe it was a ream mixture of the both.</p><p>Her and Draco walked side by side down Diagon Alley. Her face and hair was hidden by her black hood and Draco mirrored her appearance.</p><p>Yet, when she glanced up at him as they walked, she could catch half of his face, bouncing with muted colours of the painted shops around them.</p><p>"Where is your <em>friend</em> situated?" Hermione's asked, keeping her voice low. She saw Draco's eyes tap against her face for a short second before continuing to stare along the cobblestone path.</p><p>"Far from here." He scoffed. "We can apparate in a little while, just not here. Too much Dark Magic around."</p><p>As Hermione wished to respond, her voice is drowned out by the gentle glad of boots against the cobblestone and a rush of murmuring voices.</p><p>Draco grabbed her forearm and pulled  her into a street before she even had chance to contemplate it. From the putrid smell of death and Dark magic, she assumed she had been pulled into the dark pits of Nocturne Alley.</p><p>When her elbow brushed a metal skeleton, she quickly discovered she was sitting on the steps of Borgin and Burkes.</p><p>Her mind flashed to the image of Draco and the vanishing cabinet. The image of Bellatrix Lestrange entering her school.</p><p>She wanted to be sick.</p><p>"Don't fucking move." Draco's hand was still clamped down onto her forearm. "Keep quiet."</p><p>Draco peeked his head out of the alley they were hiding in. At first, she questioned what he could have seen to make him so nervous, but when she spotted four wizards, all dressed in short-sleeved black cloaks to proudly display their dark marks, she knew why.</p><p>Her eyes fell over the wizard at the front. Soft skin and wavy mousey hair. She knew this wizard. Not too personally, but she knew him. She shared a textbook with him last year during Muggle Studies. He had helped her brew a potion when she forgotten the two main ingredients in a panic.</p><p>The wizard was Theodore Nott.</p><p>His face was scowled, his pure features tainted by evil, worry—death. He was spitting out words she could not hear.</p><p>Dark magic radiated around him. She wanted to cry. He was just <em>eighteen</em>. She had hoped better for her fellow classmates. Especially those who had been so magically gifted like himself.</p><p>Although she couldn't see the face clearly, she assumed the witch walking beside him was Pansy Parkinson. Short black hair and pale hands. Hermione's eyes fell over her black fingernails. She then <em>knew</em> it was Pansy Parkinson. Because Pansy had spilled black nail polish onto Hermione's new Potions textbook last year.</p><p>She knew Pansy too. <em>Somewhat</em>. They weren't too fond of each-other. Pansy was raucous and confident. Pansy was a player, always attached to the arm of a lustful witch or wizard. Always prying at Draco or Ginny with narrow eyes. Pansy was the opposite type of witch to Hermione.</p><p>Yet, she had admired Pansy. Because when others weren't looking, she would have shot Hermione small glances and closed lipped smiles. She had even left a small vial of love potion on Hermione's desk once. Hermione never drank it and she never asked why.</p><p>She had believed that deep down, Pansy was good. The tattoo graced on her forearm told her differently.</p><p>"Malf-"</p><p>"I said be fucking quiet Granger, do you want to get us killed?" Draco whispered, glaring back at Hermione for one moment. For a second, Hermione thought there were tears in his eyes. Though she couldn't be sure.</p><p>She wanted to laugh at his words. For someone who was so scared of dying he sure did like to taint death into parchment with ink.</p><p>She wondered, sitting there on the steps of Borgin and Burke's, how he must have felt. How he would feel watching his best-friends walking together, proudly displaying their Dark Marks, on the prowl to hunt.</p><p>Without him.</p><p>She wondered if he regretted running away. She wondered if, deep down, he would hunt with them if they would accept him back.</p><p>The other two Death Eaters had their faces concealed. She could not be sure of who they were. Nor did she want to care. No matter the occupant, they were evil.</p><p>They disappeared behind the narrow alley behind Ollivander's and out of sight.</p><p>"Cunts." Draco's words landed against the snow like blood. The grip around Hermione's forearm tightened so hard she winced. "Fucking cunts."</p><p>Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "You don't envy them? You don't wish you stayed with them? You don't miss them?"</p><p>He laughed. It was cruel and sinister. It twisted against the cold air like a drug.</p><p>"They're cunts for leaving me here with <em>you</em>."</p><p>She bit her lip to stop his words from stinging.</p><p>"Then go back to them." Hermione said, finally pulling her arm from his grip. She noticed four crescent moon shaped dents from the force of his nails. "Why do you bother to stay? <em>Why</em>? You could easily go and tell them your new-found secret about Harry and Ron. You could spare Voldemort's life and he would repay you for it."</p><p>He glanced down at her. The soft grey lighting emoting from within Borgin And Burke's pressed against his tense features. His normally blue eyes were dark grey.</p><p>"I would." Draco spoke through his teeth. Hermione thought maybe he was lying. "I miss them. I miss my friends. I miss having people, someone. Someone that isn't a voucher for the Order and someone who isn't so annoying. Someone that isn't you."</p><p>Hermione scoffed in offense, but he continued to speak.</p><p>"But I will never return to Theo or Pansy." He shook his head. "Not when they refuse to distance themselves from Blaise."</p><p>Blaise Zabini hadn't crossed Hermione's mind until now. Now she thought about it, she hadn't seen him back at Hogwarts. She hadn't seen him just now in Diagon Alley. She hadn't heard anything about Blaise Zabini in weeks, months even.</p><p>"And why would that be a problem? Blaise is, <em>was</em>, your best-friend." Hermione began to shiver as the snow seeped through her jacket. "You aren't making much sense Malfoy. You never do—"</p><p>"What kind of Best-Friend would murder my mother in cold blood?" Draco spat.</p><p>He gripped the sides of Hermione's face.</p><p>His nails sank into her sink. It drenched her in a sense of Deja Vu. Her dream from a few nights ago flashed in her mind. Yet, she was compelled to think Draco wouldn't kiss her as he did in the Great-Hall.</p><p>He had also gripped her face back in the boathouse. Maybe this was a ploy for power. A way to mark his territory over her.</p><p>Hermione's mouth parted as her brain pieced it together. Maybe this was why he ran away.</p><p>Blaise Zabini was responsible for Narcissa Malfoy's death. </p><p>—</p><p>
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    <em>A/N — soooo how is everyone feeling about this? </em>
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    <em>Any theories about Blaise, Theo or pansy? </em>
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  <br/>
  <b>
    <em>Any ideas why Draco keeps drawing Hermione dying?</em>
  </b>
  <br/>
  <b>
    <em>Who Draco's 'friend' is that'll appear that chapter?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Tysm!</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Eleven.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Draco had told Hermione he had to visit a friend for <em>business</em>, she had half expected to have ended up in some dark alleyway. She had even half expected to end splinched on the Malfoy Manor table—Just like in the sketch that had been pressed against her chest all those weeks ago.</p><p>And, Hermione had almost believed him to have been lying.</p><p>Draco didn't have any friends. Not <em>anymore</em>. Not since Blaise Zabini had apparently killed his mother and Theo and Pansy had refused to rebuked him for it.</p><p>Secretly, she wondered if there was more truth to be discovered. Blaise Zabini had never looked like a murderer in her eyes.</p><p>Her heart had broken when she spotted the mark beneath his sleeve last year— For she had also believed Blaise to be good.</p><p>Yet, she stood shivering in an open field, her boots being swallowed thick puddle of mud. Rather than snow, the air was simply cold. Muggy. It was very foggy and small droplets of rain fell against her eyelashes.</p><p>She was staring at a black-coloured cylindrical house on top of a hill with a stream at the base of it.</p><p>It almost looked like a giant chess rook.</p><p>She felt as though she should recognise it, but she did not. It seemed somewhat familiar, but distant all at once.</p><p>There was no time to dwell on the familiarity, as Draco had begun to walk, heading up towards the house with determination on his face. He stopped outside of the stream a few minutes later, adjacent to a green hedge that held Orange radish-like plums.</p><p>They floated upside down and tumbled with the force of the wind.</p><p>Beside them, a sign; <em><b>KEEP OFF THE DIRIGIBLE PLUMS.</b></em></p><p>For a moment, she thought she recognised the neat handwriting.</p><p>"It's probably best if you wait out here." Draco spoke, looking around nervously like he was afraid of someone's arrival. "I'm not sure how they would react to seeing you with me."</p><p>Hermione raised an eyebrow as she wrapped her coat around her to block out the cold force of wind that fell over her skin.</p><p>Draco pulled her arm so she was hidden by a hedge. It reeked of sweet plums. She wished she could reach out and taste one.</p><p>"I thought you needed me as an accessory." Malice was laced between the cracks of her words. "Suddenly changed your mind?"</p><p>"Yes. Changed my mind." He glanced at her. "Just shut up and don't go anywhere."</p><p>"No, Malfoy." She hadn't realised she was yelling, her finger was pointed at his face. "You can't keep doing that! Doing <em>this</em>—acting like I'm unimportant!"</p><p>He sneered down at her. His teeth were chattering, with rage or chill she did not know.</p><p>"It's business that does not concern you." He shrugged.</p><p>His hands were pulled into fists. He was trying to remain calm under her stare. Turning on his feet, Draco tried to escape Hermione's fury, but she caught his arm and pulled him back towards her.</p><p>"Of course it concerns me. You think I've been hiding with you for weeks just to be constantly shut out in the dark?" Her eyes were squinted in rage. "I don't know what's going on in that thick head of yours half the time and it's pissing me off!"</p><p>"No one tells you to hide with me, Granger." He shot back. "You're more than welcome to leave anytime you want. I won't care."</p><p>Hermione scoffed as he ripped his arm from her grip.</p><p>"You would care." She trembled as he stepped closer to her.</p><p>Her voice threatened to stutter when she could feel his breath wafting against her skin.</p><p>"Because then you would be alone. Completely alone. Blaise hates you, Theo hates you, even fucking Pansy hates you. You would have <em>nobody</em>." Hermione spat, rage flooding her veins like toxin. She wasn't sure what had come over her. Cruelty had never been her strong point. but at this point—she didn't care. "You think being with a dirty <em>Mudblood</em> like me is more favourable than being completely alone."</p><p>He gawked at her words. Hermione had stilled. Words like this had never departed her lips. Hermione was kind. Hermione was sweet. Today she was vicious—Draco made her Vicious.</p><p>Yet she somehow enjoyed it.</p><p>Draco shook his head, his black hair falling over his forehead as he stepped closer to her, backing up until Hermione felt the branches of the hedge digging into the small of her back.</p><p>He leant down. Like deja vu, his eyes became level with her own. She could almost taste his peppermints in her mouth.</p><p>"Fuck You." He spat, laughing slightly. Power. That's what he wanted. <em>Power</em>.</p><p>He turned on his heels again and stepped across the stream to depart up the stairs. He shot her a glance before knocking on the door.</p><p>He disappeared behind it when it opened. All Hermione saw was a few strands of shoulder length blonde hair before it closed behind him.</p><p>Hermione questioned for a moment why she should stay. She wondered what remaining in the occupancy of Draco Malfoy would do for her. He was cruel and callus and mean. He was rooted with evil and ruined from years of exposure to violent dark magic and the deception of the Dark Lord.</p><p>Yet she knew why she didn't leave.</p><p>She didn't want to be alone anymore, either.</p><p>—</p><p>Draco had exited the house fifteen minutes later clutching his arm.</p><p>He refused to speak on the matter and apparated himself and Hermione back to Southwark before she had time to press any more questions.</p><p>Curiosity played in her mind while she sat by the fire in the living room a few hours afterwards.</p><p>Draco was sitting in the adjacent armchair, in black silk pyjamas. He was gripping the daily prophet in his hands like usual and his hair was returned back to its usual colour due to the wards in the safe house.</p><p>Words had not left his mouth for four hours. Yet he still sat there.</p><p>He became a comfortable object in the room. Hermione admittedly did not mind his presence in moments like this.</p><p>She told herself he was merely an accessory.</p><p>He only spoke when Hermione stood to leave and head to bed. His words ground her to the sofa. </p><p>"So, Mudblood, how does it feel owning such a extraordinary wand?" He didn't look up from his paper as he spoke. Hermione sensed the sarcasm between his words. "Powerful? Worthy?"</p><p>She frowned and turned to look at him.</p><p>"Feels amazing, Ferret-Face, how does it feel being such a dick?" She shot, leaning back into the sofa.</p><p>"I'm asking you a genuine question, Granger." He fired back, finally looking up from the paper his eyes had been studying with a furious gaze.</p><p>"Not so genuine when you casually throw the word Mudblood in like it doesn't mean anything." Hermione crossed her legs and watched intently as Draco's lips fell into a thin line.</p><p>"It doesn't mean anything." Her heart tightened at his response. "It's simply a descriptive word. You are Muggle-Born, so you are a Mudblood."</p><p>His casualness made her furious. She bit her tongue to keep herself from swearing.</p><p>"It's a very rude word with extremely awful connotations." She absentmindedly picked up her new wand from the arm of the sofa and twisted it in her fingers.</p><p>"There are many words with rude and awful connotations in the world, Granger." Draco placed the paper beside him. The sleeve of his silk pyjamas rose slightly and she caught a glimpse of his mark before he pulled it back down. "Stop being so fucking sensitive."</p><p>Rage filled her lungs. She continued to bite her tongue to stop the rage from spilling out.</p><p>The taste of iron flooded against the backs of her teeth.</p><p>"<em>Anyway</em>." Draco continued, crossing one leg over the other. "The wand."</p><p>Hermione stared down at the wand in her hands before looking back up at him. He seemed amused in a nonsensical sort of way.</p><p>"It puzzles me." Draco hummed. "Basilisk Fang core. That's very odd. Very dangerous. There <em>must</em> be a reason Basilisk fang was used."</p><p>Hermione frowned. He was right of course. She had never once met a wizard whose wand contained Basilisk Fang as it's core.</p><p>Then she remembered what Harry had told her all those years ago.</p><p>It hit her mind like a truck.</p><p>"When Harry was sucked into the Chamber Of secrets during second year—he fought and killed a Basilisk" Hermione spoke.</p><p>As the words left her mouth, the wand tingled in her hands.</p><p>"So? Is there a reason you're bragging about Saint-Potter's righteous battle?" Draco rolled his eyes while he leaned forward in his seat. His elbows fell against his knees and the front of his silk shirt fell, exposing the silver necklace that pooled in his collarbones. Hermione had to source her eyes to the floor to stop herself from staring. "Or is this more boasting about being besties with Harry Potter?"</p><p>"He fought the Basilisk and then destroyed Tom Riddle's diary with one of its teeth." She tried to remember clearly. It had been many years ago. The memories seemed slightly fuzzy with the rush of Harry's words when he told her what had happened.</p><p>He was a pre-teen on an adrenaline high. Most of what he said could have been massively exaggerated. She tried to think about what could have been the truth.</p><p>Draco had seemed suddenly much more interested. He was leaning closer to hear her rushed words.</p><p>His lips parted to a small 'o'.</p><p>"So you think a wand possessing a Basilisk Fang could destroy something of such magnitude again? Maybe that's why it was made?" He questioned.</p><p>All of the venom that was usually swept through his words had disappeared.</p><p>Hermione pursed her lips. Shooting a glance at Draco, she thought hard for a moment.</p><p>"Tom Riddles diary was one of the first Horcruxes."</p><p>Hermione's stomach filled with some sort of confusion. She was thinking so deeply she hadn't realised Draco had slipped from the armchair to fall back against the velvet next to her. So close that the silk of his pyjamas vibrated on the bare skin of her shoulder.</p><p>Draco hummed. He slipped his palm against Hermione's hand, she staggered for a moment until she realised he was slipping the wand from her hand and into his own.</p><p>He held it up against the chandelier and closed one eye. The reflection of the yellow substance — which Ollivander had declared was not a jewel-like she first assumed — reflected against his blue eyes, pooling inside of his iris' like a bright flame.</p><p>"That does not explain why it was being held in Regulus' bedroom." He studied it for a moment longer. His silver ring that sat on his thin white finger clanged against the yellow substance at the end as he fumbled with it in his hands. "The letters that you mentioned a while ago. Where are they?"</p><p>For a second, Hermione wondered why he was so interested in the feeble topic.</p><p>She had to remind herself this was his mother's home. His mother's home that had been the holder of the wand all these years.</p><p>Maybe Draco believed she had some connection to it.</p><p>Maybe he wanted closure.</p><p>Or maybe he was just genuinely interested.</p><p>She inwardly laughs at the last option That would have been weird. Draco Malfoy would have no interest in something like this. Not usually.</p><p>"Under here—" Hermione scrambled to grab the letters that were hidden beneath the coffee table. She grasped them in her shaky hands, they were bound together by a small piece of brown thread.</p><p>They were all still ridden of words apart from one.</p><p>She set them in Draco's lap at the same time he placed the wand in hers. Hermione tried to ignore the fact his fingers were cold against her legs, she tried to ignore the way they lingered on her skin for a split second longer than they should have.</p><p>Draco held up the only letter that had words that are readable.</p><p>"The job is done." Draco repeats the words on the parchment. Staring at it for a moment longer, he then dropped it to his lap. "The job is done, <em>R.A.B</em>"</p><p>It was silent for a moment.</p><p>"R.A.B is Regulus initials, Regulus Arcturus Black. That's all i can decipher from this." Draco sighed. He seemed agitated. "My mother told me that Regulus was a complicated boy. Even more complicated than me, than Potter, than <em>you</em>. This note could mean anything. I assume the task had something to do with that wand, though."</p><p>She had to agree. From what she knew of Regulus Arcturus Black; he was not an easy man to unpick. He had been just eighteen at the time of his death. A death with no explanation. A death followed by him leaving a mysterious wand made with a powerful core under his bed.</p><p>Yet, he interested Hermione.</p><p>His story, his death, his involvement in the Death Eater course. How he would have came to possess a wand with a Basilisk Fang core. What it meant and why it would have chosen Hermione as its owner.</p><p>It puzzled her mind more than she cared to admit.</p><p>"We should try to find someone who knew him well. Someone who would possibly understand why he left the wand. What his task was." Hermione stated, glancing across at Draco whose fingers played with the empty parchment.</p><p>They both knew that there were hidden messages behind the magic possessed in the paper.</p><p>It frustrated them both. Hermione could see the disgruntlement in Draco's features from where he sat next to her.</p><p>"I don't think there is anybody alive who knew Regulus Black anymore," Draco spoke with a bitter tone. It seemed as though his interested state had crashed and he was back to being callus. "Not anyone who would be willing to speak to us, anyway."</p><p>It was all so fucking frustrating. She couldn't help but secretly wonder if Harry or Ron would know anything about Regulus Black. Maybe they had discovered many things about him, about his task, about the use of the wand. Maybe they were searching for Hermione to tell her.</p><p>She sighed and reminded herself it was them who left her on the edge of London when they told her they would leave without her. She reminded herself it was their choice to not want her assistance in their task.</p><p>They had left her isolated. If it wasn't for them, she would not be alone in a safe house with a boy she had always loathed.</p><p>In this moment, she resented them.</p><p>"Don't tell me you're going to cry right now? Pathetic." Draco's sarcastic words made her snap out of her daze. She had not realised her eyes had filled with tears at the thought of Harry and Ron. It made her chest hurt in such a way it was almost painless. "It's not that <em>deep</em>, Granger."</p><p>Draco stood from the sofa, dropping the parchment into Hermione's lap.</p><p>"I'm not crying, dickhead." She tried to fire back but her words were strangled with a soft sob. He laughed and continued towards the door, his bare feet creaking against the old floorboards. "I'm just frustrated."</p><p>As he reached the open-way to the hallway, his silk pyjamas shimmering with the light from the dusty chandelier, he laughed bitterly.</p><p>"Maybe you just need to get drunk." He chuckled bitterly. "Maybe i'll pick up some firewhisky on our next excursion. Maybe it'll stop you from being such a fucking pussy."</p><p>Hermione gripped a sofa cushion and launches it towards him with a fit of bitter anger. It landed at his feet.</p><p>He rolled his eyes and turned on his heels to depart down the hallway, yet not before shouting over his shoulder.</p><p>"Sleep horribly, <em>Mudblood</em>! Try to not dream about me in your nightmares."</p><p>—</p><p>
  <em>Hermione woke in a dorm room bed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>After a moment, she realised that this was not her usual common room. and this was not her dormitory.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The usual window beside her bed that overlooked the quidditch pitch was replaced by one that radiated the purple-black colour of the black lake.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And the red blankets around her torso were replaced with ones of emerald green.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She was in the Slytherin common-room. Not Gryffindor's.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>With trembling fingers she massaged her temple, trying to piece together the reasons she was not situated in her normal room surrounded by her normal room-mates.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then two boys enter the room and her thought process lingers like smoke.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>One had long black hair that fell to his shoulders, barely on the cusp of seventeen years old.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His face was chiselled with a certain dynasty—Almost like a statue, with ivory skin and green eyes and soft lips to match. His features were hard as stone. He did not seem pleased or happy or charmed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione noted someone of his age should look ragged with boyish charm and childhood excitement. Yet he was pained with stress. As if he was worried. As if he was scared.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In a strange way, he resembled Draco.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He resembled the same stress and pain Draco was riddled with the year he assisted in the task to curse Katie Bell and kill Albus Dumbledore.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione noticed he was lean, with wide shoulders and thin legs with nimble fingers that clasped around a yellowish locket.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione's heart twists. </em>
  <em>Why was the locket so familiar yet distant? She had never seen it before. But it shone through the cracks of the foggy air and into her eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She locked the appearance of the necklace in her mind.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When she spoke to ask who they were, they could not hear her. It was as if she was a ghost.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Distant.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Regulus." The other boy spoke. Hermione heart stopped in her chest like she had been shot with a curse.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Regulus Black. The Regulus Black, standing before her in Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It seemed bizarre.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Just throw the locket in the black lake and call it a day." The other student continued.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione now looked at him. She noticed he was wearing red robes rather than green. A Gryffindor. </em>
  <em>And Hermione was not an idiot. Hermione knew from one look at the boy that it was Sirius Black.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sirius Black as a teen. Sirius with colour and weight in his cheeks. Sirius Black still alive and well. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tears brimmed her eyes but did not fall.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Don't be so stupid." Regulus fired back. His voice was posh and dainty and could have been considered sweet. "He would kill me if i let this sink into the horrors of the black lake."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sirius ran a hand through his short black hair and sighed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione still sat and watched silently as Regulus threw himself onto the foot of the bed she was laying in and fell on his back. From this angle, she could see his forearm through the rolled ho sleeve of his green-embroidered robes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A Dark Mark sat on his skin.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It did not suit him. He looked too innocent. Too pure. Too boyish and childlike.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Once again, it reminded her of the innocent Draco Malfoy who bore the Dark Mark while still wearing his Hogwarts robes last year.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It all made Hermione feel violently sick.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Then find another way to destroy it, Brother." Sirius continued, playing with his fingers in-front of him. "This life was not destined for you."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"How? Unless i—"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione tried to hear, but their words fizzled out into nothing but smoke.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And then she was spinning. Spinning so fast she felt as if she was dying.</em>
</p><p>Hermione woke up panting, sweat dripping down the side of her face.</p><p>With a deep breath she looked down to her trembling hand that lay on the sofa. It was warm with the feeling of magic.</p><p>She had fell asleep clutching the, <em>her</em>, wand.</p><p>Before she fell asleep once more, she noticed Draco lingering in the hallway, his eyes trained into her own.</p><p>She was too tired to ask if he had been watching her nightmare.</p><p>— <br/><b><em>A/N— I think it's known that Timothee Chalamet is a popular fan cast for Regulus Black. </em></b><br/><b><em>I personally view him as Timothee in the movie "The King."</em></b></p><p>        </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Twelve.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next time Draco departed the safe house was a few days later.</p><p>He had come back clutching his arm and his eyes were stained with ruby. Not only that—he looked brittle, his skin was even paler than usual and his fingers twitched absentmindedly as he stumbled in through the door that was still cracked from where Hermione had hexed him against it.</p><p>Once again, he refused to answer any questions Hermione had to ask about his excursion without her. He simply departed to his room and stayed there for hours, only reappearing to coldly brush past her in the hallway and take a bottle of water from the fridge. He then disappeared upstairs again.</p><p>Draco had not mentioned Hermione's nightmare from a few days prior. She knew he had been watching as she woke with heavy pants and watched as she doubled over to retch over the side of the sofa, but he did not mention it.</p><p>She knew he wouldn't have given her the satisfaction of thinking he cared.</p><p>Could it have even been considered a <em>nightmare</em>? It was not a particularly frightening dream. It had been simply...strange. It seemed too realistic. Too true. The way she trembled when she woke had let her consider it to have been a nightmare.</p><p>The tingling wand in her hand when she woke made her consider maybe it wasn't a dream after all.</p><p>Maybe it was a memory.</p><p>Just like how Tom Riddle's diary had slipped Harry into a state of unbinding unconscious of Tom Riddle's memories in their second year at Hogwarts.</p><p>Hermione struggled to remember what Harry's exact explanation of that experience had been. But once again, Harry was a child at the time. His words had been fumbled and rushed and worried.</p><p>It was hard to decipher clearly and know what was the truth.</p><p>It all didn't sit perfectly in Hermione's mind. Something seemed off. Something seemed strange.</p><p>Something felt like Dark Magic.</p><p>"Any reason you're sitting there wallowing like a gnome?" Draco's voice wafted through the air and cracked the tension Hermione had created with a harsh snap. "Feeling sorry for yourself again?"</p><p>She peered up at him as he entered. His white hair was hidden by the black beanie he wore frequently when they first met at the hotel. It had grown a little longer since then and the stands that fell by the nape of his next were slightly waved. Crossing the kitchen, she watched him pull a bottle of Firewhisky from his coat pocket and slide it into one of the dusty cupboards.</p><p>Remembering his words a few days prior to her being uptight and needing to get drunk flooded her mind. She didn't believe he was actually being serious. Yet somehow she was thankful.</p><p>She really <em>did</em> need it.</p><p>"None of your business." She shrugged. She was still angry at him from the way he behaved outside of the strange house with the plumbs. "Keep your nose out."</p><p>He was venomous. He was evil. She continued to remind herself of that every-time he spoke to her because her brain kept threatening to forget it.</p><p>"Good thing i don't give a fuck, anyway." He shrugged back, matching the anger hidden in her words within the cracks of his own. "Keep crying to yourself, Mudblood, that'll get you far."</p><p><em>Mudblood</em>.</p><p>The word was so tainted. So vicious and so disgusting. Every-time he said it, it reminded her of the bullies at Hogwarts; Of Adrian Pucey tripping her in the great hall while screaming "<em>Dirty Mudblood</em>" in-front of the entire student body. Of Pansy Parkinson pushing her against a wall and whispering "<em>Mudblood Bitch</em>" when a group of Slytherins walked by—She had left Hermione chocolate on her desk the next day, which Hermione refused to believe was an apology.</p><p>But nobody had called her a Mudblood as many times as Draco Malfoy. He used it like it was a passing term like it was just another descriptive word in his vocabulary. He used it because he had never experienced the pain and humiliation of being a Mudblood like Hermione had.</p><p>And with that thought, indignation rattles through Hermione's bones and causes her to snap.</p><p>She doesn't even think about it before her wand is held in the air and her voice box cracks with a spell.</p><p>
  <em>"Vespertilio Volans!"</em>
</p><p>Draco was not holding his wand, so he had no time to react before a line of black smoke flew from Hermione's wand and smacked him in the face. A few moments later he cried out in pain as three bats flew from his nose and into the hallway.</p><p>Hermione had underestimated the power of her new wand. Draco had fallen to the floor as his nose had split on one side from the force of the animals leaving his nasal passage.</p><p>It was a grotesque jinx.</p><p>She gulped down a small trifle of guilt that slid against her tongue. Her brain reminded her of the time he called her a Mudblood while she drank Butterbeer at Hogsmead with Ginny—Then the guilt fizzled away.</p><p>He had deserved it.</p><p>Draco peeled himself from the dusty floor, clutching his nose with his hand.</p><p>It was a childish jinx. Very childish, normally it didn't cause any damage or pain, but her wand was more powerful than she had ever thought. The only spells she had cast on it so far had been fickle and simple. This one proved that she may have possessed the most powerful wand she had ever seen.</p><p>"Think that's funny do you?" His voice ringed with embarrassment. He had reached down to grasp his wand from the dining from table and held it towards Hermione's face. Her body was still on the sofa and he was looming over her from eight inches away in the kitchen.</p><p>She didn't flinch—Because her wand had been pointed towards his. And they both knew the Basilisk fang inside of her own could blow his to pieces within seconds. They faced each other. Wands nearly touching at the tip. Two monsters with one brain. An unspoken battle to see who would crack first.</p><p>"Very funny, actually, Malfoy." She retorted, dragging herself from the plush velvet to walk around and step closer towards him. They both kept their wands stark towards each other. "Call me a Mudblood one more time and i'll see what else I can drag out from your nose—or should I turn you into a Ferret again just like Moody did?"</p><p>He pursed his lips as he dropped his wand.</p><p>"Maybe this is why four eyes didn't want you to join him." His shoulder brushed her own as he walked past her. "You're insufferable and that stupid wand is doing nothing to help your ego."</p><p>She scoffed.</p><p>"Oh yeah? What do you know about <em>anything</em>? You know nothing about me, or Harry, or why he didn't want me with him—"</p><p>"I know that wand has been given you weird dreams. I know that it must be that fucking wand causing you to be so convulsed all the time." He interrupted her, leaning against the door frame. "It reeks with Dark Magic."</p><p>Narrowing her eyes, Hermione spoke. "And you don't?"</p><p>A pitiful smirk played on the edges of Draco's lips as he removed his beanie to run a hand through his matted hair.</p><p>"I've always reeked of Dark Magic, darling, you have not." He paused. "Now, you smell just the same as me."</p><p>Hermione opened her mouth to speak but he had stepped towards before she had the chance. He had dropped his beanie on the arm of the sofa as he walked.</p><p>Blood still fell from where her jinx had tore his nose and trickled into the cracks on his bottom lip. He licked it away with his tongue.</p><p>He reached out towards her, she flinched but didn't move to dodge his touch.</p><p>"Mudblood Granger—"When he spoke, his hand wrapped around the base of her neck. She sucked a breath in through her nose as his palm rested on her skin, his thumb pressing against the side of her throat. "—evil, just like me."</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione sat for hours with her head buried inside a book. After Malfoy had pressed his hand against her neck she had felt so much confusion and fury that she would've done anything to distract her mind from it.</p><p>Reading had always been the best way to distract herself.</p><p>This particular topic had done nothing to ease her mind, but it tore her brain away from splashing images of Draco's bloodstained lips and cold hand from the pits inside her mind.</p><p>She had retrieved the book about Horcruxes back from Draco about a week ago but did not have any time to research it until now. The book contained many things she already knew; such as the matter of fact a Horcrux could be considered one of the most dangerous matters of magic. How they could be contained to any object, such as Tom Riddle's diary or in something like a necklace or animal or even a human. How it would twist the mind of its creator or owner, make them feel pain and evil and an insane amount of anger.</p><p>It said nothing on how to counteract a Horcrux. It said nothing about how to destroy it. The last ten pages of the book had been completely bare, nothing but a taunting stain of white of the parchment stared back at Hermione as she turned the pages desperately. Hermione considered Regulus may have used the same spell to hide his letters to hide what the last ten pages contained.</p><p>Regulus Black was very smart.</p><p>She wished he was still living. Regulus seemed like the kind of wizard that would slither inside her brain and keep her occupied with magical ideology and theories for hours on end. He seemed smart and compressed, leaving small notes and scribbles throughout the book in messy handwriting. She did a similar thing to all of her textbooks, too. Regulus seemed like a spectacular wizard for his age. He reminded her of herself in a strange type of way.</p><p>In her dream—memory—Hermione perceived him as being rather handsome. So boyish. So rugged and pure yet so powerful. He seemed to be a normal Hogwarts student, dressed proudly in his green and black robes and green tie. Until she saw the mark that sat pressed against his forearm.</p><p>Her mind contracted with the question of what type of magic had consumed him before his death.</p><p>Hermione wondered if that's what Harry and Ron were doing. If they were out searching for the Horcrux's and working out how to destroy them, without her. With a sigh, she tried to not let those ideas flood within her. It only made her angrier and made her feel more than betrayed by her best friends.</p><p>Feeling left out had never been Hermione's strongest mortality. And that's how she felt—<em>left out</em>. She had tried desperately to squint her eyes to focus on the words inked into the pages but she could only see Harry and Ron in her mind. They could've been anywhere. In London, maybe Grimmauld Place, maybe in Devon, maybe in Scotland. Anywhere.</p><p>It annoyed her most because she had done everything with them. Yet now, she was alone with Draco fucking Malfoy gripping a book owned by Regulus Black in her hands.</p><p>The ideology surrounding the Horcruxes fizzled from her mind as tears stung her eyes.</p><p>She bit the inside of her lip as Draco's words rang through her conscience.</p><p>
  <em>"Keep crying to yourself, Mudblood, that'll get you far."</em>
</p><p>Crying would not get her far. Crying made her feel weak and brittle and stupid. Like a child, like a student who had failed a test. She did not want to be that person anymore.</p><p>But she also refrained from letting herself believe she reeked of Dark Magic like Draco had told her she did. He was lying. Jealousy, maybe. That the wand had chosen her and not him.</p><p>Jealous was a stupid way to feel, if that's what he felt. Because he was right—The wand did twitch the insides of her brain. It made her fingers twitch with an indictment of acerbity and power. It made her angry, it made her hassled and annoyed. More than usual, anyway.</p><p>But she was grateful for it. It added a sense of purpose.</p><p>She hadn't decided if those feelings were a good thing or a bad thing just yet. It felt exciting, to have power. Back at the start of the term inside of Hogwarts, power seemed like a silent dissolute thing. She didn't feel powerful, she felt weak and useless and stupid. The day Ollivander declared the wand as being hers she felt powerful. Worthy, even. It made the idea of running away and sticking with Draco not so much a bad thing.</p><p>Yet, she didn't want to become evil. She didn't want to succumb to Draco's accusation. Being evil could have easily been obtained— the wand clearly held Dark magic. It held dark tenets and folds. It steamed black smoke every-time she cast a spell that wasn't usually the appearance of such spells. Her fingers tingled with virtue every time she held it.</p><p>The pages of Regulus's book fell shut on her lap and she let it tumble next to her onto the velvet of the sofa. She stared at it for a moment and let her finger trace across the hard-back cover.</p><p>Everything puzzled her. Her wand, Harry and Ron and their adventure without her, the blank letters left in Regulus' room before he died, the book he left. Draco. Draco puzzled her the most. He disappeared and would come back looking pained and treacle and angry. Draco gave her sketches of death, he never explained them.</p><p><em>Everything</em> puzzled her.</p><p>She had not expected this to be the way her year would be.</p><p>Her fingers fell over the white writing on the cover, it felt slick under her hands like it was not meant to be touched. It felt like it was burning her skin, tainting her with power and knowledge. But all knowledge was lost. She felt as if she was drifting through this month like a small gust of wind.</p><p>With a deep sigh, Hermione pulled herself from the warmth of her blanket of the sofa and placed the book on the coffee table.</p><p>She had almost forgotten it was still winter until the floorboards pricked the soles of her feet with tiny beads of ice and began to turn her toes blue. Small snowflakes threatened to fall through the cracks in the window by the fridge. Maybe Christmas had already passed and she didn't know. She hoped not. Christmas was always her favourite time of the year.</p><p>With family and friends singing and laughing with twinkling lights dotted around the house in green and red. Looking around the house she was situated in; it couldn't have been more opposite. No laughter and no cheer, no coloured lights and no decorations. <em>Emptiness</em>. Nothing but a velvet sofa and matching armchair, a dim yellow light seeping from the chandelier. The only sense of decoration was the sketches on the wall.</p><p>Hermione still had not looked at what the sketches depicted.</p><p>She headed upstairs to use the bathroom. When she crossed by Draco's old room, the door was open and the room was empty. As she continued to walk down the hall, she let her eyes peek around the door of Narcissa's bedroom.</p><p>Draco was curled into the mattress. His head was squashed into the pillow and his hands fisted the duvet around him.</p><p>Hermione thought he almost looked pure. He almost looked...<em>peaceful</em>.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione eyed Draco from her side of the dining table. His cheeks were full of bread and his fingers wrapped around his glass of orange juice.</p><p>He hadn't spoken to her since she sat down but he had still placed three slices of toast and a pancake on her plate for her to eat.</p><p>She knew better than to say thank you.</p><p>While chewing, Draco's eyebrows were permanently folded in the middle. As always, he was reading the Daily Prophet that was placed on his knee. Hermione could not read the article that way but she assumed it couldn't have been great because Draco's eyes scanned it with a small fire behind his iris'.</p><p>Hermione knew it would be about Voldemort. Or Harry, or both. She knew it was either an article creating tension between The Dark Lord and The Boy Who Lived or an article reporting on the matters going on at Hogwarts.</p><p>She hadn't thought about Hogwarts in a while. Maybe she hadn't thought about it frequently enough. Because her friends were struggling, her friends were hurting. And she was doing nothing to help.</p><p>It didn't feel like the right time to help, though.</p><p>Maybe they didn't need her help, they were brave wizards. <em>Maybe they really didn't need her help</em>.</p><p>Hermione peered over his orange juice glass but still could not see the writing on the paper.</p><p>"What's the article about?" Her words were tentative. "Any news about Hogwarts?"</p><p>Draco glanced at her for a second and sneered before looking back at the paper, turning the pages so viciously Hermione thought they were going to rip in two.</p><p>"Malfoy—"</p><p>He slammed a fist against the table and plucked the paper up with his hand. He threw it at her. She tried to not gasp in shock when it hit her chest and the top corner of a page left a paper-cut on her exposed collarbone.</p><p>"Read it and find out." He spat. He looked absolutely furious, his hands trembling against the black dining table. "I'm sure you'll love it."</p><p>His eyes were as sharp as a bayonet.</p><p>It was almost scary.</p><p>Hermione frowned in confusion but set the paper down next to her plate to read the title. Whatever it was, she knew it wouldn't be good. Not from the way Draco's pupils shook inside of the sockets and from the way he aggressively picked his glass up and took a swig. She was surprised that the force of his fist didn't penetrate the glass.</p><p>Bile started to bubble in her stomach when her eyes scanned the title. She had been wrong. It was not about Hogwarts. It was not about Harry or Voldemort or the War.</p><p>It was about Draco. A moving picture beneath the title, a black and white picture of Draco as a third-year student posing next to Lucius Malfoy at the ministry.</p><p>He looked so pure—He looked void of Dark Magic. It wasn't the Draco that was sitting across from her right now.</p><p>
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    <em>"Malfoy Heir deemed missing or assumed dead after his escape from Voldemort's Army."</em>
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</p><p>She swallowed the lump in her throat before continuing to read out loud.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>"Draco Malfoy is being heavily sought after by Theodore Nott and the rest of Voldemort's fresh-faced recruits. He may be using a false name or appearance changing charms but Theodore Nott claims he will be giving a million Gallons to any witch or wizard who can locate him—"</em>
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</p><p>His stupid false name rang through her brain.</p><p>Anchor Smith.</p><p>Hermione cleared her throat before reading the next part.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>"Dead or Alive."</em>
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</p><p>Draco snatched the paperback from her wobbling hands before she can continue to read. Before she can protest, he's grasping his wand from the table and muttering words and Hermione watches as the newspaper tears into shreds by an invisible pair of hands. It lands in shards by her feet.</p><p>"Happy now?" He asked behind a bitter scoff. "Knowing that they want me dead?"</p><p>Hermione frowned. Deep down, she knew that would be slightly unlikely. The Malfoy family had been devoted to Death Eaters since the beginning of time. Draco had even been willing to consider killing Dumbledore in exchange for a higher rank in the Dark Army. Voldemort must have remembered that.</p><p>He must have remembered Draco was just a boy. He was just on the cusp of nineteen years old.</p><p>She had to remind herself Voldemort was a ruthless murderer who most likely not take his age into account.</p><p>She realised at that moment that Draco had betrayed Voldemort in some way shape or form. Maybe he would not spare him, despite all Draco had done for the Dark Army.</p><p>But there were many things about Draco's situation he still hadn't spoken about. Hermione didn't really understand the reason he decided to pack his stuff and leave Voldemort's army in the first place. It was hardly like Draco had suddenly spouted a kind artery in his heart and woke to suddenly want to help Harry and the Order.</p><p>Yet, he had simply ran away. It wasn't like he was fighting for Voldemort's opposing side. He had ran away. It seemed like a weak move, a cowardly move on Draco's part. Hermione had always considered Draco a coward until the day she saw him running with Bellatrix while they set Hagrid's home on fire. Moments after attempting to kill Dumbledore.</p><p>Before that day, he was just a boy. Just a coward. He cried when a Hippogriff barely grazed his arm, he cried when Hermione smacked him in the nose. He ran in fear when invisible snowballs fell against his white hair.</p><p>She remembered he had nearly cried when his Aunt held a blade to his throat and just about sliced his skin just weeks ago.</p><p>Maybe he still was a coward. Maybe the day he <em>nearly</em> became a Murderer was because he was a coward. If he wasn't a coward, he would've cast the curse himself and laughed as Dumbledore's body fell from the tower and into the ground.</p><p>But he did not. He had let Snape do it for him.</p><p>Though, Hermione thought it unfair to call him a coward. He had ran away—but so had <em>she</em>. If he was a coward, so was <em>she</em>. In some way or another, she would be considered a coward.</p><p>She knew she was stronger than him, mentally and magically. She didn't cry when he knocked her down and called her a Mudblood. She didn't cry when she thought she had lost Harry multiple times. She didn't even cry when she erased her parent's memories before returning to Hogwarts for the winter term.</p><p>Hermione wasn't a coward. She knew that.</p><p>She also knew deep down, Draco wasn't a coward, either.</p><p>He was just broken. He was corrupt. She knew that the day Lucius' body stepped from the wardrobe as his Boggart. She knew that right then, watching his hands tremble at the thought of being taken back to the Dark Army. Back to his father. Back to the Manor where his mother would not be waiting for him.</p><p>He was damaged goods. He always would be.</p><p>"Malfoy, just—just calm down, okay?" Hermione's words were careful, just on the edge of sounding annoyed and frustrated. "They can't find you here."</p><p>Draco looked as though he wanted to scream. His jaw was tensed with so much vigour Hermione thought it would snap. Instead, he breathed through his nose, letting his hands resolve into fists on the table.</p><p>Hermione hadn't noticed his black sketchbook beside his plate until now.</p><p>"Calm down? If brains were gold, Granger, you'd be poorer than a Weasley." Hermione didn't expect him to yell. But he was, yelling so loud her glass trembled on the table. "Calm down? I'd like you to be calm if you knew your best-friends were hunting you and waiting to watch you die."</p><p>Hermione paused. Her words had to be collected and calculated. Draco seemed so angry that any wrong move she would be hexed to the floor with spiders crawling from the pits of her stomach.</p><p>There were so many questions she wanted to ask. So many. But she knew if she asked them, it would break Draco's fury in two and she'd have to pay the price for it.</p><p>"Maybe they—Maybe Theo, Pansy, maybe they aren't trying to find you to kill you." She gulped. Even Hermione herself wasn't sure what she was trying to say, or how it would sound. "Maybe their trying to find you to make sure aren't actually dead as the paper is assuming."</p><p>Draco frowned and pierced her skin with the blue of his eyes.</p><p>"If you're trying to be smart—"</p><p>"No, Malfoy." She shook her head, holding a hand up to his face to stop him from talking. "Even though I hated you, <em>despised</em> you, Pansy, Theo and the others. I've never seen a group of friends so closely knitted together—it would be unlikely they simply would toss you to the side and wait to see your bones rot."</p><p>The words stung on her tongue. He didn't reply, his mind was clearly working through his thoughts and trying to dissect them.</p><p>"Theodore Nott was a smart boy. He comes from a dark home, just like you, am I right?" She waited for him to nod before continuing. "From what he seemed, you were the only person he could relate to. You and Blaise. Maybe Pansy as well."</p><p>Speaking of Blaise made her stomach churn. Even the mention of Zabini crumbled Draco's features and for a moment, he looked as though he was going to double over and be sick.</p><p>He bit against his bottom lip so hard crimson started to appear on his skin.</p><p>"I calculated Theo as being like a brother to me." Draco nodded. His expression was now hard to read. "B-Blaise too."</p><p>"I won't ask now what happened, with <em>that</em>." They both knew that she meant Blaise's involvement in Narcissa's death. "But, i believe you're smart, think about it. Really think about it. Would Theo turn his back on you solely to rise in Voldemort's ranks?"</p><p>Draco sucked his teeth. Hermione met his eye. The anger had dispersed. His fingers had relaxed and were now tapping against the oak beneath them.</p><p>"Maybe he would." He paused and thought. "Theo was the happy one of the group. He was always the one cracking jokes and smiling even in the darkest of times. Becoming Voldemort's right hand man had never been something on his agenda."</p><p>Hermione shot him a closed-lip smile. Words seemed feeble in a moment like this. She didn't know what to say. But she had to say something.</p><p>"You will, we will, figure it out." Hermione nodded. She watched as his features hardened again. "And when you're ready to tell me why Blaise killed Narcissa it may help us fi-"</p><p>Too far. She knew she had went too far when Draco's chair scratched across the floorboards and he was rising to his feet. His demeanour had changed in a mere second. It was almost frightening how quick his mood could change.</p><p>He scrambled to pick up his sketchbook.</p><p>"I will never tell you!" He looked as though he was going to cry. The memory of his mother's death evident in his features. "Don't ever fucking ask again."</p><p>He ripped a page out. He slammed it to the table face down and headed to the hallway.</p><p>"Stupid fucking Mudblood cunt."</p><p>Hermione sat there for a moment. She had to breathe through her nose to stop her heart from pounding in her throat.</p><p>The sketch was the same. Another form of death for Hermione. Another way of imagining herself dying.</p><p>But in this death. She wasn't alone.</p><p>Draco had drawn her scattered on the floor of what seemed to be the Malfoy Manor's living room, her head tossed to the side, only connected to her neck by a small segment of skin. Beside her, it looked as if it Draco, his body covered in drawn patches of what she assumed to be blood. His eyes were not drawn. Just his mouth half open with bats flying out and into the fireplace.</p><p>Hermione's breath staggered when she read over the scribbled handwriting in the corner.</p><p>
  <em>Hermione Granger, died trying to save Draco Malfoy. Her attempt to save Draco Malfoy had only ever meant one thing—Death for the both of them.</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Thirteen.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>Song for this Chapter is </em>
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    <em>
      <span class="u">I'll be good by Jaymes Good.</span>
    </em>
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  <b>
    
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  <br/>
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    <em>"I've been cold, I've been merciless</em>
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  <br/>
  <b>
    <em>But the blood on my hands scares me to death"</em>
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</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione did not remember her dream as she woke with a pounding heart and tears on her cheeks.</p><p>All she could remember was fire. Bright orange and red fire swarming around a screaming body. All she could remember was the smell of burning flesh and the sound of bones hitting rock before she woke up and her mind fumbled to restore the exact events.</p><p>She was only awake for a few minutes, lying silently on the sofa before she had to run upstairs to throw up in the cold bathroom. There were specks of ice hanging from the toilet bowl and it turned her fingers a pale shade of blue.</p><p>While retching the reminiscences of her <br/>non-consolable dream up into the toilet, she had barely heard the bathroom door creak open until Draco cleared his throat to catch her attention from behind her.</p><p>She grimaced as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and turned to look at him. He was stood against the door frame, a confused expression on his face. </p><p>Draco was still dripping with the notion of <em>sleep</em>. His hair was stuck up in eight different directions and his eyes bore a black shadow beneath them. He must not have noticed that he had forgotten to button the top half of his silk pyjamas.</p><p>Hermione must not have noticed that she began to stare.</p><p>"You woke me up." He stated, as he crossed his arms, the sleeve of his silk pyjamas slid up, Hermione noticed the skin around his Dark Mark looked irritated but she did not feel compelled to think about it, nor remember it. "Care to explain why you're vomiting at seven in the fucking morning?"</p><p>Hermione slammed the toilet lid down as she stood. Her legs shook beneath her for a moment until she steadied herself using the sink. Draco only scowled down at her, not once inch of worry or remorse ridden on his features. Not that she <em>wanted</em> his worry or remorse in any type of way, though.</p><p>"Sorry that I am sick." She scoffed, pushing past him and walking into the dim hallway. Dust collected on the balls of her feet. "Next time i'll make sure to ask you if it's okay first."</p><p>Draco followed her as she walked down the hall. He followed her as she walked down the stairs. He followed her as she went back into the living room and collapsed on the sofa.</p><p>"That wand is causing this, isn't it?" Draco questioned, falling down into the velvet armchair. He eyed the wand that was placed on the coffee table beside the book about Horcruxes she had been studying a night prior to right now. "It's turning you into an even bigger cunt than you were before, is it not?"</p><p>The yellow substance at the end of the wand glimmered when a crack of light shone through the window and fell against the coffee table.</p><p>"None of your business." Hermione replied, snatching the wand and pushing it into the pocket of her pyjamas so he couldn't judge it with his eyes any further. "You don't share things with me so I won't share things with you. That's just how it is, Malfoy."</p><p>She was referencing to his outbreak of anger yesterday morning during breakfast—His breakdown at the mention of Blaise and Narcissa. He had lost his mind and stumbled upstairs and not returned for the rest of the day.</p><p>He refused to tell her things, so she would refuse to tell him things as well.</p><p>If Draco wanted to be irrational, then so would she.</p><p>It was a two-way street.</p><p>She promised herself not to tell him about her nightmare. To not to tell him about the screams and the burning flesh and the fire. She promised to not give in to him, no matter how hard his blue eyes burned into her skin from the other side of the room in the armchair. No matter how hard his features scowled beneath the yellow light of the chandelier and no matter how fast he could make her heart race when he did things like wrapping his hand around her throat and breathing into her mouth.</p><p>She promised herself.</p><p>"The contents of my mother's death are on a slightly different realm than asking you about your <em>wand</em>, don't you think?" He cocked his head to the side and let his jawline pool with chrome light.</p><p>Looking down at her hands, she scoffed.</p><p>"Maybe so." Her voice was smaller than she had wanted it to be. "But that still doesn't mean it's any of your business."</p><p>"Well, Granger, it becomes my business when you're screaming in your sleep at three in the morning and then retching your guts up the moment the moon disappears." Hermione didn't look at him but he continued to speak anyway. "Ollivander's reaction to that wand was for a reason. It's poisonous."</p><p>Hermione didn't reply.</p><p>"Maybe it's poisonous—or maybe you just don't know how to control it yet," Draco said. She looked up at him and his eyes were sparkling with something peculiar.</p><p>"Having dreams has nothing to do with me being able to control my wand or not." She spoke truthfully. "Not to sound conceded but I'm a powerful Witch, something like wand would not cause a certain type of dream."</p><p>They weren't dreams. She knew that even though she didn't want to admit it. They were memories that she knew were important in discovering the true belief behind her wand. Her being able to control the power of the wand would do nothing to stop her slipping into the unconscious state. They were inevitable.</p><p>Though she knew Draco was right in some way. Her Jinx had nearly torn his nose off and the warming charm she tried to create nearly set her blankets on fire three days prior to now. The wand held such energy that it could become overwhelming.</p><p>Maybe she <em>did</em> need to know how to control it.</p><p>"Maybe the dreams won't stop." His arm moved to lean against the arm of the chair he was occupying, it made his pyjamas slip and reveal his pale collarbones. Hermione thought they looked like sharp shards of permafrost, catching the smallest glimmer of pearl from the light dejecting from the window. "But it could stop the sickness, the reaction to the dreams—or whatever they are. If you are being attacked by Death Eaters and you're on an adrenaline high and riddled with fear, that wand could kill everyone around us including me and yourself."</p><p>Hermione lips formed a straight line while she thought.</p><p>A migraine was beginning to form in the pits of her mind.</p><p>There was so much to worry about. This was another thing she never expected to add to the list. First it was the worry about leaving Hogwarts in the first place, the worry of deciding to stick with Draco even though they continued to loathe eachother, the worry of Harry and Ron. The worry of War. The worry of being hunted.</p><p>There was no escape from worry while she continued to live with Draco.</p><p>Maybe that was something she just had to accept.</p><p>"I'll figure it out."</p><p>Draco laughed. A short bitter laugh coursed through the chilled air as he stood from the armchair and cracked the window open on the other side of the room. Snow fell against the floor in small piles, tainting the dark wood with white.</p><p>"Have fun figuring it out alone." He continued to chuckle under his breath. "We both know i'm the one with the most experience in Dark Magic. The closest you've been to Dark Magic was that nasty little jinx you hit me with the other day."</p><p>She was silent as he leaned to press his forehead against the open window.</p><p>"In a few days, we will apparate somewhere desolate and you will figure out how to control whatever magic possesses that wand. Got it?"</p><p>"And you'd help me for what reason?" She quirked an eyebrow as he stuck a hand out of the window to collect snowflakes on his palm.</p><p>Draco glanced at her over his shoulder before removing his hand from the snow and pulling it back inside. He walked towards her while he rolled his eyes.</p><p>He placed his hand on her cheek with a scowl. It was so cold with the leftover pickets of snowfall that had settled into his palm that she gasped and staggered away from his touch.</p><p>"I've told you, multiple times, Granger." He looked her up and down, an evil smirk playing on his lips as he flicked his hand towards her in a childish manner so that the snowflakes landed on the skin by her eyelashes. "I will not die because of a Mudblood. If it means making sure you can use a wand correctly, I'll do anything I can to fucking help."</p><p>Hermione didn't think before her hand lands on his cheek.</p><p>Draco had a bruise in the shape of her hand on his cheek for two days.</p><p>—</p><p>Images of Regulus Black continued to flick throughout Hermione's mind over the days and nights she spent in Narcissa's safe-house.</p><p>Just like right now, when she closed her eyes to wash her hair, his innocent face she had seen in her dream penetrated her mind. With his scared eyes and long hair. His pale skin and the locket that trembled within his brittle fingers. His face taunted her, a gentle reminder of his battle and struggle she knew little about.</p><p>She sighed and proceeded to rinse her hair with her eyes open. That was a bad idea because shampoo slipped into her eyes and an image of the body burning in the fire fills them like Heroine inside of a vein.</p><p>There was a small inkling inside of her that the burning body she had seen in her dream belonged to Regulus Black.</p><p>She tried to not let her mind wander as she had promised herself to relax tonight. She had promised herself to sit by the fire and occupy her thoughts with something other than Regulus Black and the War. Like reading a muggle book, or drawing, drinking tea or even practising small spells to start figuring out how to use her wand carefully, as Draco had suggested.</p><p>Pushing the image of Regulus to the back of her mind, Hermione turned the water off and wrapped a towel around herself.</p><p>The thought of Draco taunting her half-naked body with his poisonous eyes was not on her agenda for the night, or any night, so she changed into her pyjamas in the bathroom and used a charm to dry her hair halfway. She let it hang damp on her shoulders so her natural curls could form within the next hour or so.</p><p>As Hermione walked down the hall, she used her wand to light the way. It was nightfall by now and the small chandelier that hung over the stairs flickered with the warning the bulb was about to fizzle out. As she walked, her wand held out in-front of her, Hermione let her eyes flicker across some of the sketches on the wall—It was the first time she had really stopped to look at them.</p><p>Fear had stopped her every-time she wanted to nose at them before now. Because if they were anything like the sketches Draco continued to draw of her, she wasn't interested.</p><p>She stopped beside Narcissa's bedroom and squinted in the dim light to make out the contents of the drawing hanging in the dusty frame beside the bedroom door.</p><p>It was so messy Hermione struggled to make out what it had been. After a moment she realised it was a rough sketch of the Great Hall. A mass of bodies sitting at the long tables, no faces were drawn just like in the sketch of her dying above the Malfoy Manor dining table Draco had given her at the hotel. Her eyes continued to scan the image. At the top of the hall stood Dumbledore, Hagrid Filch and what Hermione assumed to be the other Professors. The artist, who she assumed to be a young Draco Malfoy, had even draw the stained glass windows and the candles hanging from the ceiling. Hermione chucked when she noticed there was writing on the Slytherin table reading "<em>THE BEST.</em>" This confirmed the artist was indeed Draco Malfoy because no one but him would have been so adamant to clarify this.</p><p>Something inside of Hermione twinged when she read the scribbled handwriting at the bottom of the sketch.</p><p>
  <em>My Home. - Draco Malfoy 1994.</em>
</p><p>Hermione pursed her lips together and continued to walk down the hallway. The next sketch was similar, slightly better drawn, like his artistic skill had developed as he grew older.</p><p>Rather than the Great Hall, it was the quidditch pitch and the spectators of the match. Like before, the faces were not drawn. Only a few, she assumed one to her Harry from the round glasses on the face and the annotation "<em>Tosser</em>" next to it. She also assumed one of the other drawn faces to be her, a spectator with curly hair and a smile. Beside it, an annotation which was scribbled out with charcoal pencil to the point it was not readable.</p><p>Hermione squinted hard enough to believe it once said "<em>Mudblood</em>" but had been replaced with the words "<em>A smart Witch</em>."</p><p>She inwardly grunted, trying not to think about it too deeply. It was just a drawing by a young child. It meant nothing he had decided to draw her. If it even was her.</p><p>Something puzzled her as she continued to walk and quickly glance at the sketches. Why had Narcissa Malfoy never put up photographs in the house?</p><p>There was not one photograph on the walls, or any photographs in frames on the dressers or stuck to the fridge. Hermione knew this wasn't just a muggle thing, because the Weasley home had been plastered with smiling images of the siblings, their animals, places they and been together. In her own home, there had been multiple photographs of herself, such as her school yearbook photos from each year, photographs of her smiling at the Christmas Market, or at the ballet class she attended during the Christmas break before she had obliviated herself from the home.</p><p>But here, there was not one photograph of Narcissa, Regulus or Draco in sight.</p><p>It somewhat annoyed her. She questioned how close-knitted Narcissa and Regulus had been. They had to have had some sort of connection to have left Grimmauld place to reside here alone.</p><p>Yet it seemed distant. Like Narcissa had rid herself of any memories containing the two of them.</p><p>She reminded herself that she had told herself to not think about Regulus, tonight at least. She swallowed her frustration and headed downstairs, her body was craving the warmth of the fireplace.</p><p>It was colder than it had been before. So cold that Hermione had cast a warming charm in the house a few hours ago but it was still so cold her teeth chattered as she walked. </p><p>In the kitchen, it felt much colder. She noticed from the moment she walked in that the air was thick as fog as Draco had clearly left the window half-open—leaving snow to seep down the side of the wall.</p><p>She hadn't expected Draco to be sitting at the dining table. He was drenched in darkness, like a black shadow hiding and waiting for its prey. The only reason Hermione had spotted him was because of the small stream of candle light falling against this face.</p><p>Beside him, the Firewhisky bottle and a glass half empty with three cubes of ice.</p><p>His eyes glanced to greet her as she walked in. They felt almost as cold as the air around them. Thick with alcohol and trepidation. He sucked his teeth as he looked at her before using his arm to reach and grasp his glass, swigging down the remainders of the whiskey in his glass. He didn't even grimace at the taste.</p><p>"Evening, Granger."</p><p>He was drunk. If not drunk, tipsy at least.</p><p>She wasn't sure if she should've turned on her heels and headed upstairs to stay there for the rest of the night. She knew it probably would've been the better option, to hide and avoid confrontation all together. Yet, somehow, she found herself pulling out the chair beside her and landed onto the wood of the seat.</p><p>"Any reason you are drinking alone?" She asked, eying him with a raised brow.</p><p>Her words were extremely careful like they were treading on the edge of a volcano waiting for it to erupt.</p><p>He could erupt any second. He was not a predictable being—especially not when his veins were drenched with Whisky.</p><p>He scoffed, with a shaky hand he flicked the lid of the bottle open to pour himself another glass. He held it up to her, like he was offering. She questioned it, but shook her head and he took a dark swig before speaking.</p><p>"Drinking is a great way to distract the body of any blows, Granger." He pursed his lips together. "Firewhisky is a magical thing, why shouldn't I drink?"</p><p>She praised her lips back, mirroring his taunt expression.</p><p>"Blows?" He flinched at her words and she wondered if she had already made him explode. Yet he chuckled, spinning the glass with his fingers and squinting to watch the liquid splash against the sides. "Did something happen?"</p><p>"Oh, you know—" He rolled his eyes. "—Nothing other than having to live in the house my dead Mother owned because the most powerful wizard in the world wants me to find me to most likely have me splinched."</p><p>He paused.</p><p>"Not to mention i have to live in the house my dead mother owned with <em>you</em>."</p><p>Hermione stilled while the tension in the room fumbled into something uncertain. It reminded her of the tension that surrounded them when they first saw each-other at the hotel a few days prior to nearly being captured by Shunpike and Bellatrix. The tension was almost painful. Like it was gnawing at Hermione's chest. She sucked in a deep breath.</p><p>"Then shall I leave?" Her words weren't laced with malice or anger. Yet she was genuinely asking if she should go. If he was in that much pain from having to be situated with her, then should she leave? "I can head to Muggle London, find myself a hotel, I could easily leave"</p><p>"Don't you fucking dare." Draco had slammed his glass onto the wood table so hard she was surprised the glass didn't smash. "Granger, I have told you—"</p><p>Hermione huffed through her nose so loud his words stilled. He frowned at her, his drunken face ridden with an expression she cannot read.</p><p>It was unclear if he was angry, or if he was confused. Hard to tell if he was finding this situation funny or simply painful. The whisky had concealed his features into nothing but drunk, tipsy and unreadable.</p><p>"You haven't told me anything, actually." She shot him a pointed stare as his unclear expression twists into something else. "You yell at me and tell me you hate me, insult me, call me a Mudblood cunt, then every-time i offer to leave you make up some bullshit excuse like how you think you'd be found alone-"</p><p>"If you leave then I won't know what the fuck to do". He interrupted, his voice laced with something that sounded like anger, or maybe it was a little hint of fear dripping through the cracks in his words. "You'll run back to Hogwarts or Tosser-Potter. You'll slip right back to where you're meant to be and i'll be stuck here trying to avoid getting my heart pounded with a green curse."</p><p>He paused to take a swig of his drink.</p><p>"Because you're Miss Granger. Perfect little Granger. With a perfect little head on her smart little body. No matter what you decide to do, someone would be there to catch you if you fell, be it Weasley or Potter, even Mcgonagall." He took another sip like it was water. "You could run back to Hogwarts clutching that tainted wand of yours reeking like Dark Magic and they'd all be there to make sure you were okay."</p><p>Words became fickle. Because he was right. Deep down, she knew he was right. Because she had always been on the good side. She had always fought for the Order.</p><p>They'd be there with open arms if she decided to return.</p><p>They'd be angry at her for leaving. They'd be angry at her for occupying herself with the presence of a Death Eater, of course. But Draco was right—She was Hermione Granger. She was Harry Potter's best-friend. Nobody would let her break.</p><p>"It's not the same for me." He continued. His drunkness was becoming more evident, his eyes staggered in the sockets and his fingers twitched while he spoke. He looked like a ticking time-bomb, Hermione had to clutch onto the wood of the table to prepare herself for the explosion. "If you left, where would I go? My mother is dead. My Best-Friends have turned their backs on me. Fuck knows what my father thinks, he is probably hoping to see my body being carried back in a body-bag."</p><p>He pulled his chair around so it was slightly closer to Hermione's. The round table made this easy and he pushed his glass towards her like he hoped she would take a sip. When she didn't, he snatched it back and downed the remaining liquid.</p><p>"I would have nowhere to go. I'd sit here for years until The war ends—and then what? If Voldemort really does defeat Potter and the Order, what's left for me? Nothing but Death, most likely."</p><p>Hermione looked at him before speaking. His eyes trained onto her own and made her stutter.</p><p>"S-so what? You don't want me to pack my stuff and go because you're scared of what life will bring you? You're scared of dying? Me being here has no difference in whether you die or no—"</p><p>Her words are cut short by him leaning over the small stretch of wood beneath them to grab her pyjama shirt in his fists.</p><p>"Are you fucking stupid?" His breath fell onto her skin like a rash. It reeked of alcohol mixed with fear and animosity. "Are you really acting this fucking stupid because you want me to say <em>it</em> with my own words?"</p><p>She crossed her brows in the middle.</p><p>"Granger, I don't want you here because I like you. If anything you made me angry, annoyed and pissed off most of the time." His fingers tightened on her pyjamas. She tried not to tremble beneath his touch. "Don't you get it? You turned up when I thought I was heading to nowhere. You stayed when Graham died on the boat, you live in my mothers house like it was made for <em>you</em>. Not to mention my uncle's wand decided to pledge its loyalty for <em>you</em> for some reason we both don't understand. If you leave, then <em>what</em>? You go out and serve the world with that wand while i sit here and suffer?"</p><p>His words did not make much sense. He was tipsy and barren and broody. He was emotional. Hermione knew it was all of the pent up anger inside of him rushing out because the alcohol made it easy for him to slip. She wasn't sure how to process it—how to understand it. His words were rushed and sloppy and confusing.</p><p>Yet she understood, <em>somehow</em>. He was scared. He was scared of being alone. She had always known that, she had always known that he would rather stay with her despite his hatred than to leave and fight his own battles by himself.</p><p>Because he was still a boy.</p><p>He was still a boy who should be out with his friends kicking a football around a pitch, or a boy sat in art class painting something to make his teacher laugh, a boy who should've been chasing girls or boys and shagging on the weekends.</p><p>Because he was just an eighteen-year-old boy.</p><p>No eighteen year old should have to decide whether they die alone or die in the company of someone they hate. </p><p>He opened his mouth to speak but closed it with a grunt and dropped his hands from her pyjamas, shoving her slightly so she fell backwards against the wooden backrest and grunted when a splinter fell into her skin.</p><p>"Why do you think people wouldn't take you back, Malfoy?" She asked, staring at him in the dim light. Her eyes ghosted over his skin that for once, almost looked warm due to the candle light. "You don't have a good reputation. You tried to kill Dumbledore, you bullied everybody. And now they think your a traitor and a war criminal. So why should they take you back?"</p><p>He sneered at her. He took a swig from the Fire-whisky bottle, this time not even bothering to pour it into the glass.</p><p>He frowned at her. Emotionless. Like a statue, with sharp curves in his face and features like a blade. For a second he reminded her of Medusa, so cold and callus yet misunderstood and deceitful. Selfish yet broken.</p><p>"I've been cold and merciless, but the blood on my hands scares me to death" For a second Hermione thought she heard his words tremble, but he took another sip and composed himself. "Yet, Mudblood, you're right. I am a cunt. I am an absolute dickhead. Nobody had ever liked me, nobody had ever want to see me succeed. So why would they now?"</p><p>"I don't feel remorse for you." Hermione told him, laying her hands onto the table. "I really don't. Even if you're actions were a reflection of your broken home. I don't feel remorse. Because you are <em>you</em>. A cruel boy, with cruel words and features and motives. I could never trust you with my whole heart."</p><p>He licked his bottom lip. Hermione wondered if her words had been a blow to him because he dropped his head and let his hands run over his face.</p><p>"I despise you." He spat back. She knew his words were a front to how he was truly feeling. It was his side of cowardly shining through his whiskied demeanour.</p><p>He dropped his hands and peered into her eyes.</p><p>"I despise you because you waltzed into my fucking life when I thought i had escaped all of <em>this</em>. You, Potter even fucking Ginger cunt and all your stupid dramas. You showed up because deep down you had the same motivations as a monster like me—To run away. To escape war." He stood and stumbled, landing against the kitchen counter. "And it drives me fucking mental because I hate you but I can't keep my hands to myself. It's like your dirty blood has tainted me, manipulated me, because I don't want to keep my hands to myself. And that's not usual, that's not right. I can't seem to not touch your begrimed skin, because when I do—"</p><p><em>He was drunk. He was drunk. He was fucking drunk, </em>Hermione had to remind herself. She had to remind herself that what he was saying was stupid, a stupid confession of a drunken boy with drunken ideology. A boy riddled with loneliness and fear could never be so deceitful, could they?</p><p>"Stop talking!" She stood as well, taking one step towards him but then one step back. "You're drunk. You should go to bed, we can talk tomorrow."</p><p>He laughed, throwing his head back. His Adam's apple bobbed in his neck as he laughed like a madman, before he pulled his head back down to gape at her with a dark expression.</p><p>He was manic. Like he had snapped in two.</p><p>He stumbled towards her. She took another step back, but the back of her thighs hit the sofa behind her and she was suddenly trapped between the velvet of the sofa and the silk of his pyjamas.</p><p>He ran a finger down her face.</p><p>"You're disgusting." He said as his finger trailed down her neck, she tried to shuffle from his grip but his other hand was wrapped so tightly around her arm she could not move. "You are so putrid—so why can't i keep my hands to myself?"</p><p>She gulped. In her mind, she tried to remind herself that there were bigger problems in the word than Draco Malfoy right now. She reminded herself of Harry and Ron and Ginny and Luna. She reminded herself of the Carrow twins spreading evil at her school. She reminded herself of her parents who were sitting in sunny Australia without a clue who she was. She reminded herself of Dumbledores falling body hitting the grass outside of the Astronomy tower.</p><p>Yet, why did she lean into his touch? She didn't know why. Why would she allow him to touch her when he found her so revolting?</p><p>Because she found him revolting too. He was an attempted murderer. For all she could know, he <em>could be</em> a murderer. So why right now, when his finger fell into the pool of her collarbone, did she forget all of those things?</p><p>She hadn't realised he had dropped down to meet her gaze. It only became apparent when he spoke because his breath gusted into her lips like acid. He tasted like evil and alcohol and lust all at once.</p><p>Yet it was addicting.</p><p>"Malfoy stop—"</p><p>He scoffed, bringing his hand from her collarbone to wrap around her neck once just like he had a few days prior. His thumb tapped her pulse by the base of her neck like it was a drug, like it was drawing him in and he couldn't stop. </p><p>"Believe me." He was so close that she shut her eyes and prepared to feel his lips against her skin. She didn't question his actions which is what worried her the most. This was Draco Malfoy—why would she even consider letting his nefarious lips fall against her own? "I'll stop, because even though i am trying desperately to keep my hands to myself, you still fucking disgust me."</p><p>He shoved her away so hard her legs nearly doubled over the sofa.</p><p>Hermione could not move, even if she wanted to. She stood there, with her hands trembling at her sides with more anger and embarrassment than she had ever felt in her life and watched him leave. Watched him stumble into the hallway like nothing had happened. Like he had done <em>nothing</em>.</p><p>God, she hated him. She hated him so much she felt as though she was going to be sick.</p><p>Yet—she had been prepared to <em>kiss</em> him. She shook her head, telling herself this was not another thing to add to the list to worry about.</p><p>Draco stopped just after the doorway, clutching onto the stair bannister as he turned his head over his shoulder, the light from the hallway catching the tiniest grin of pleasure in his eye.</p><p>"And Granger." He found her eyes in the foggy dark room. "Merry Christmas."</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Fourteen.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Listen, Granger," Draco said, moving away to stand on the other side of the pavement that was smack bang in the middle of the open field he had brought her to. "The wand may be powerful enough to kill someone else, which is a good thing, but it could also kill <em>you</em>."</p><p>Hermione raised a brow at him as he kicked the snow at his feet. She watched the wind brush past his black hair—that had become a stable in his appearance every-time they had to leave the safe-house—before she replied.</p><p>"And how do you suggest I avoid blowing myself to smithereens then?" She didn't bother to lace her words with kindness. "Any bright ideas in that stupid head of yours?"</p><p>Hermione knew there was no reason to be kind to him. If anything, she wanted to be nowhere near him after the way he had drunkenly treated her the night prior to now.</p><p>He had been cruel and confusing. So childish and virulent. What made it worse is he had inwardly refused to even mention it afterwards at all. He was acting as if he hadn't called her the most disgusting words he could muster up while acting as if he might have <em>kissed</em> her.</p><p>It was cruel. It was simply cruel because it tore a dent in Hermione's brain and threatened to cause her a sense of confusion.</p><p>She promised to not let that happen to herself.</p><p>"Aren't you meant to be the greatest Witch to come out of Hogwarts?" Draco cocked his head to the side, letting the pale light from the snowfall against the sharp curves in his skin. "Shouldn't <em>you</em> know?"</p><p>"Didn't you project that you're a master at deflecting Dark Magic?" She quirked back, scoffing beneath her breath as she tangled her fingers around her wand that sat in her pocket. "Shouldn't you know?"</p><p>He clicked his tongue and took a few steps backward. Hermione noticed his fingers slipping into his pocket and she unconsciously prepared herself for a sudden attack.</p><p>"Do you remember how it felt back in first year when Ollivander gave you your original wand?" He asked with annoyance ridden behind his words, Hermione still kept her hands focused on his fingers that sat absentmindedly in his pocket. "It felt uncontrollable at first, right?"</p><p>Hermione nodded and noted she could feel the magic behind her wand tingling her fingers.</p><p>"How did you control it then?" He pressed on. "Or did you not have to try because you are Miss Granger and everything seems to always work out for you?"</p><p>Hermione grit her teeth. She knew he was provoking her on purpose, an act to cover up the words he had told her the night before as a result of the whiskey drenching his veins.</p><p>
  <em>I can't keep my hands to myself, no matter how much you disgust me.</em>
</p><p>Hermione squared her shoulders and pushed his words to the back of her mind to focus on the task that had landed her in a large field on the outskirts of London. It was barren and empty, not one soul in sight.</p><p>The perfect time for Draco to curse her and take her back to Voldemort for redemption.</p><p>She inwardly laughed at the idea. She knew he was too stubborn to have her be proven right.</p><p>"I would breathe through my nose and curl my toes in my shoes." Hermione said, "I'd think of happy memories and use that to fuel the magic."</p><p>Draco nodded. "What kind of memories, don't tell me you pictured Ginger Cunts face in your mind to make yourself smile?"</p><p>Hermione kicked at the snow beneath her boots and grit her teeth even harder.</p><p>It took her so much willpower to not pull out her wand and jinx him in the face <em>again</em>. She had to remind herself over and over and over again he was just being Draco. A stupid boy trying to make her hate him even more than she already did.</p><p>Because he was embarrassed of how he had acted.</p><p>That brought Hermione some sort of gratitude.</p><p>"No, actually, I pictured your stupid face screaming and running away in the forbidden forest." She joked, her eyes still lingering on his fingers inside his pocket, half expecting him to pull out his wand any second to catch her off-guard. "The sight of you being such a pussy brought me so so <em>so</em> much joy."</p><p>Her suspicions had been correct—Draco sneered and pulled out his wand and shot a jinx at her to try and catch her in a moment of weakness.</p><p>But she was smarter than him.</p><p>Her wand was in the air before the jinx had time to hit her and she blocked it with ease. It was too easy. He was too easy.</p><p>The wand Regulus had left fuelled the magic inside of her veins like it was a beautiful poison.</p><p>"Stupefy!"</p><p>The spell she had cast threw her body backwards and her back smacked against a slab of ice on the grass.</p><p>Hermione looked up in time to see a stream of black smoke, which was speckled with yellow and green fragments speeding across the path and she watched in horror as the spell smacked Draco in the chest.</p><p>He span four times in the air before he fell against the grass with a thud.</p><p>This was not the usual outcome of a stupefy spell. A stupefy spell should elect white gust, not thick smoke that almost mirrored black ink. It was only meant to throw the victim back one foot and stun them for a second—not cause them to spin in the air and hit the floor with a crack.</p><p>Hermione huffed and pulled herself from the floor, crossing the path with wobbling legs to stand over Draco who was still slick against the snow.</p><p>"Well done, you idiot!" He grimaced, pulling himself up. Hermione wanted to laugh at how his black hair was ridden with shards of snow and how his face was a bright flush of red. "Nearly snapped my back in half!"</p><p>She reached out a hand in an offer to help him to his feet but he glared at her and stood by his own accord.</p><p>"What happened to trying to <em>control</em> the wand, Granger?" He pushed and pulled his neck to the side to subside any pain he had felt when he hit the floor. "The black smoke—that's not normal."</p><p>"How do you expect me to have time to control the wand when you tried to jinx me without any warning?" Hermione fired back, she looked at her wand in her hand and scowled when she saw leftover specs of black smoke still steaming from the tip.</p><p>She wondered what the outcome would be if she cast a stronger spell. She wondered if it could kill as easily as it was to cast a <em>wronged</em> Stupefy spell. She wondered how much black smoke would erupt from its loins if she mumbled the word Crucio.</p><p>Dark thoughts. She cursed herself for even letting her mind wander to that place and focused on watching Draco reposition his wand in his fingers. </p><p>"Because Bellatrix Lestrange won't give you a moment to think about what to do! She'd be muttering Avada Kedavra before you'd have chance to pull that fucking wand out if your pocket." He stepped towards her and shoved her so she stumbled back across to the other side of the pathway. "Control it Granger. Or we die."</p><p>For a second she wanted to laugh, because he was being so very dramatic about the situation.</p><p>After a minute, she realised that his words were laced with truth. If casting a stupefy spell could make her stumble and fall back into the snow then who knew what could happen if she tried to actually fight off a Death-Eater.</p><p>There was only one way to find out—use the Death Eater standing opposite her as a dummy.</p><p>She breathed through her nose as Draco bent his knees and pointed his wand at her.</p><p>"Don't let it kill us, Rose."</p><p><em>Rose</em>. Deja Vu and annoyance ran through her body like a drug.</p><p>"I'll try to not let it kill me." Hermione bent her knees and mirrored his position. "If you die, it won't be so bad, Anchor."</p><p>He scoffed.</p><p>Hermione took a deep breath and tried to think about her magic as if she was twelve again. She tried to think about happy things. Things that made her body tingle with elation rather than anxiety.</p><p>She thought about the time she had watched Harry catch the snitch during his first quidditch practice. She thought about how she screamed so loud in happiness it nearly tore her voice box in half. She thought about how it felt to hug her best friend after his first win.</p><p>"Alarte Ascendare!" She cried out, pressing her eyes shut with the image of the Golden Snitch falling from Harry's mouth.</p><p>The wand spurted the same black smoke as before, but it was less violent, less vigilant, less destructive. Draco flew into the air like the spell would normally do and he landed on the ground with a small grunt.</p><p>It was not perfect. It was not <em>normal</em>. But her feet were still on the ground and Draco was still in one piece. It was working.</p><p>"Cunt." Draco spoke as he stood, once again cracking his back. "But—you didn't fall this time."</p><p>"I did not." She stated, looking at him with a blank expression. She tucked a strand of her black hair behind her ear. "You didn't try to block the spell."</p><p>"I did not." He mimicked her taunt words. "Wanted to see if you'd curse me when you were given an open chance too."</p><p>She rolled her eyes and stepped back again to get into position for another duel.</p><p>But he didn't copy her, instead he stepped over the path onto her side and before she had time to reject his touch, he was gripping the collar of her black coat in his hands.</p><p>He sneered down at her with an uncertain expression Hermione could not dissect.</p><p>"Try to <em>break</em> me, Rose." His breath was hot, a fire on her skin in the cold air. "At least <em>try</em> to snap me in half, because I know you'd want nothing more than to see me wither in pain."</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione spent two nights healing Draco's broken back.</p><p>She didn't admit it caused her glee to see him in pain, just this once.</p><p>Just this once, as he lay on the sofa, withering under her wand, she felt glee. Because this time, he wasn't the one in control.</p><p>"Granger that fucking hurts." Draco groaned, trying to shove her wand away with a shaking hand, but he hissed and pulled his fist back against his chest. "Are sure it's the best idea to be healing with that fucking wand?"</p><p>She glared down at him, her eyebrows meeting in the middle above the bridge of her nose.</p><p>"I told you, i have it under control now." A lie, somewhat. Her control on the wand left by Regulus Black had improved massively, but it still was not perfect.</p><p>"Under control? You broke my back by sending me flying into a fucking tree."</p><p>She sniggered, which riled him even further. His face twisted in annoyance as the red glare from the fireplace bore into his eyes. It made him look manic, deranged even—Hermione kind of liked it in a strange type of way.</p><p>"It wasn't the wand that broke your back, I did." This time she wasn't lying. "You told me to snap you in half, so I did."</p><p>Hermione used her free hand to press at the skin on the base of Draco's back. It was as cold as ice and it twitched in pain under her touch. Her other hand calmly levitated over the skin by his spine and she had to grind her teeth to distract herself from the sound of his bones crunching back into place.</p><p>He seemed physically unaffected by her touch, his face nothing but an angry slate riddled with pain and affliction. Mentally, she wasn't sure if he was affected by her soft hands withering against his skin or not. He was as closed as he could be.</p><p>He sucked in a breath of pain at the same time a loud crunch from his spine echoed across the room.</p><p>Hermione wasn't sure if she should feel guilty. Deep down she knew she did. It wasn't like her to send jinxes at other Wizards in the way she had done to Draco. But also, it was extremely satisfying.</p><p>He had been provoking her the night before, with the base of his palm around her throat and the taste of Firewhisky that drafted onto her tongue. And he had provoked her in the snowy field, with his black hair flowing against the wind and his eyes filled with what seemed like animus.</p><p>He had asked for it. So she gave it to him.</p><p>"I wasn't being literal, Granger." He grunted once more as she bit her lip to focus on the healing power of the wand. She knew one wrong move and the wand could explode and smash his spine like a broken bottle. "I was simply—"</p><p>"Being a twat?" Hermione finished his sentence as the last crack of his bones riddled across his body and she assumed she was almost done.</p><p>"Yes, Exactly." He tried to sit but Hermione pushed him back down so his chest fell against the sofa. "I just wanted you to actually have some motivation with the wand, i thought annoying you would help."</p><p>Hermione's lips fell into a thin line.</p><p>She knew he had done it for another reason. He had pulled her coat towards him and fell so close to her that she can still feel the black strands of hair against her forehead. Because as he admitted when he was high on Whisky—he couldn't keep his hands to himself.</p><p>The confession still made her uneasy. She wasn't sure if he even remembered saying it at all, if he did, he wasn't going to mention it.</p><p>"You're back is nearly healed, I'd say." She changed the subject in hopes to diffuse the pit in her stomach. "I could rub a pain-relief potion into your skin to ease the rest of the pain, bu—"</p><p>"N-no." He pushed her hands away and sat up on the sofa. Hermione let her eyes linger over his bare chest in the firelight for a second longer than she should have. "You're dirty hands have touched me enough for the past few days."</p><p>There it was. His coward shining through. Hermione knew he said things like that when he worried he had seemed too vulnerable.</p><p>"Fine, suit yourself." She backed away from him and rested her weight on the edge of the coffee table, careful to not touch the book about Horcruxes beside her. "It will still continue to hurt for a little while then, just b-be careful with it."</p><p>He stood and crossed to the kitchen where he fell against the chair by the dining table. He had not dressed himself and he let his body continue to be engulfed by the red light of the fireplace.</p><p>Hermione swallowed and turned her gaze to the fire.</p><p>The fire still reminded her of her dream—memory.</p><p>It reminded her of the screaming and the smell of flesh and strangely...of water. Sudden vivid images of deep dark water fell into Hermione's mind and she had to clench her eyes shut to get the dizzy feeling out of her head.</p><p>"Malfoy, do you not know much about how Regulus died?" Hermione asked, she was sure she had asked it before.</p><p>She heard Draco suck his teeth behind her.</p><p>"I've already told you. My mother told me little about Regulus Black." His voice was curt. "Meaning I know little of his death, too."</p><p>Hermione turned to gaze at Draco. She thought it a mistake when her eyes fell directly into his own and she struggled to pull them away.</p><p>"It's annoying me." Hermione pursed her lips.</p><p>"I can tell." Draco looked down his nose at her over the stretch between the dining room and the living room where Hermione was sitting. "You won't shut up about it. Don't you think there's enough to worry about other than his death?"</p><p>Hermione stood and crossed the stretch between them to lean against the kitchen counter. It was much colder where she was now, the fire seemed miles away.</p><p>"I need to figure out how to see the messages from the letters." Hermione looked down at Draco who showed no reaction to her words. "There must be more to it, more to why he left this in the house before he died."</p><p>Draco pinched the bridge of his nose.</p><p>"I agree, Granger—but there's no use sitting here letting ideas rot inside of your brain." He looked up at her before looking back down at his hands. "Why do you let it consume you so much? Didn't you run away from Hogwarts to escape all of this?"</p><p>He was right. She had.</p><p>But running away from Hogwarts made her realise there were more problems in the world than she had cared to realise.</p><p>"I did." She shrugged, pulling her jumper over her hands to block out the cold. "But then you were there. Then it was Death-Eaters at the hotel, then Theo fucking Nott on the boat, then Regulus Black leaving things a Basilisk Fang wand in your dead mother's safe-house."</p><p>He winced at the mention of his mother.</p><p>"How can I escape this? If Harry and Ron had let me assist them on finding what they are trying to find, I would've been consumed by Wat. If i went back to Hogwarts, I'd be consumed by the Order and the Carrow's. If I stay here, i'm consumed by <em>you </em>and Regulus' hidden ideology." She sucked a breath in through her nose. "I can't ever escape any of this."</p><p>Draco turned back to her, again.</p><p>His jaw flexed in time with his chest rising and falling.</p><p>"Maybe Regulus did have a reason to leave the wand here. The one-letter than wasn't hidden, <em>that's</em> your clue. He had a task. A task that either failed or succeed with his death." He bit his bottom lip while his fingers twitched on the table. "Maybe he knew the wand would dedicate its loyalty to someone like you, somehow. Maybe the next task has been left for you. Maybe you're more of an important figure in this fucking war than you think."</p><p>He paused before continuing to speak. His eyes were latched onto her face while he thought for a split second.</p><p>"Take it with a pinch of salt, but from what I do know about my mother's cousin—he was a smart wizard. If that meant dying for a procurable cause, he probably would have done it. That could be wrong and he could've be the evilest person to roam the earth but i believe my mother was truthful."</p><p>Draco stood and crossed her body to the window, he pushed it open and leaned against it. Hermione was shocked when he pulled out a cigarette packet and lit one using wand-less magic. </p><p>She did not know that he smoked.</p><p>Yet the discovery made some sense, she believed she had smelt smoke while she was sleeping, but had convinced herself it was nothing but stress phantosmia. Smoking was not her favoured task; yet she did not blame him.</p><p>If it would do anything to rid him of the stress he clearly had, she would accept it.</p><p>Besides, she couldn't deny that the sight of him letting smoke trail from his lips and fizzle out into the snowy night sky while he stood half-naked beneath the light from the fire was anything less than pleasing to the eye.</p><p>He noticed her staring and spoke. "Don't bite my head off, Granger. Wizard cigarettes, unlike Muggles, we found a way around the lung cancer."</p><p>He held the packet out to her like he was offering but she shook her head.</p><p>"So you think Regulus was or wasn't really fighting for Voldemort? In my dreams—memories—he had a dark mark which tends to hint at affection for the Dark Lord." She continued, trying to not let his attempt to scuff the topic be successful.</p><p>He looked at her while he brought the cigarette to his lips. "I have a Dark Mark and I'm not fighting for Voldemort."</p><p>Hermione scoffed.</p><p>"You're not fighting for the good side either." She paused. "I'm trying to work out if that's what Regulus was doing. He moved into this secret safe house, with your mother, he had a book on Horcruxes and left a wand made of Basilisk Fang under his bed."</p><p>"It wouldn't surprise me if he <em>did</em> defy Voldemort." Draco spoke, the Dark Mark on his arm stood out like a drop on ink on white parchment, catching Hermione's gaze as it speckled beneath the moonlight seeping in through the open window.</p><p>It still looked irritated. But she didn't ask, Draco seemed somewhat placid. She wasn't about to make him rupture.</p><p>"I say that because he is dead. Most people who decide to defy The Dark Lord's wishes ended up dead."</p><p>Something cracked beneath his eyes as he spoke and he coughed inwardly. Realisation. Fear—A dreaded mix of both.</p><p>"Stop worrying about it. It's annoying. So fucking annoying. There must a reason you slip into Regulus' old conscience while you hold that wand, you'll end up figuring it out soon enough without having to try."</p><p>So he <em>did</em> agree with her that they simply weren't dreams. They were memories. They were hints of Regulus' past. It puzzled her and she told herself to figure out what she remembered from Tom Riddles diary when she got the chance.</p><p>"I guess you are right." She nodded, trying to not give him too much gratification.</p><p>He put the cigarette out on the windowsill.</p><p>"We should head back to the field tomorrow to continue practicing wand control." Draco told her before flicking the butt of the cigarette out of the window and into the snow. "If you break my back this time, i'll snap <em>your</em> neck in two."</p><p>He closed the window to block out the winter's draft and walked towards the hallway with a slight limp.</p><p>"Only if you promise to not be a cunt." She retorted as he disappeared down the hallway into the darkness of the night.</p><p>She heard the stairs creak with his weight and his faint voice echoed through the living room as he spoke his last words of that night.</p><p>"Leave some of that pain relief potion outside of my bedroom door."</p><p>She felt her lips quirking up at the edges.</p><p>God she loathed him.</p><p>But Merlin, did she find herself thinking something odd; She could not seem to keep her eyes to herself—and for that, she loathed him.</p><p>—</p><p>Draco landed on his stomach and Hermione gasped as he yelled out in pain, she quickly used her wand to rid him of the ropes that had snuck around his legs.</p><p>"Fucking hell Granger!" He spat, pulling himself back onto his feet and wiped the snow from his black trousers. "What did I say, you stupid idiot?"</p><p>Hermione let her hand fall from her chest when she assumed that she hadn't snapped his back in half for the second time.</p><p>She had hit him with an Incarcerous conjuration—the same one he had thrown her way back at the safe house what seemed like weeks ago by this point. She had told herself it was revenge, but unlike him, she didn't use the binding spell to her own pleasure to torment him any further.</p><p>"I don't know? What <em>did</em> you say." She crossed her arms as he fixed his beanie that sat on his black hair.</p><p>She was not in the mood to be here.</p><p>"Control the wand, that's what I fucking said." He sneered at her from across the pathway. "You're gonna get me killed if you don't pack it in."</p><p>"Like I said, Anchor Smith, would that really be a bad thing?" She twirled her wand in her hands and let the yellow jewel at the end press against her palm. "It's not my fault your shit at blocking spells."</p><p>"No—we spoke about this. Don't act smart." He picked his wand up from where it fell on the floor with a bitter look on his face. "You're not even trying, you have to control it."</p><p>She knew he was right. She had to control it. The way smoke had flown out of the tip of the wand like thick black ink at a simple conjuration spell was not a good sign.</p><p>"Fine." She grit her teeth. "I'll try and control it."</p><p>She thought back to how she controlled it last time. Happy thoughts. Thoughts that bough her pride and joy and strength.</p><p>"I'll try and stun you again." She told him, watching the mist from her mouth swirl in the cold air. </p><p>He shrugged and got into the dueling stance.</p><p>"Warning me won't help you."</p><p>She bit the inside of her cheek and let her eyes close for a moment. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.</p><p>
  <em>I'm Hermione Granger, and you are?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Um, Ron Weasley.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Pleasure.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You two better change into your robes, we'll be arriving at Hogwarts soon.</em>
</p><p>The memory of meeting her best friends for the first time flooded her mind and she was uttering the spell confidently without even thinking about it.</p><p>"Stupefy!" A smog of black smoke flew from her wand, not as harsh as before and she had started to believe that black smoke was something that accompanied the wand no matter what.</p><p>Draco's body froze and his hands went high in the air, a hint of embarrassment ridden onto his brisk features.</p><p>The spell had been successfully controlled. For the most part. It wasn't perfect, but it was much better than before.</p><p>After a moment, the spell wore off and Draco stumbled on a pad of ice in the grass.</p><p>"See? Not so hard is it." Although his words were complimentary, in some way, an annoyed expression was still stuck on his features. "Do that every-time and we should be fine."</p><p>Hermione nodded. Her wrists tingled with gratification.</p><p>"It'll be hard to control the force of the wand if you come face to face with a cunt like Alecto Carrow or Antonin Dolohov." Draco noted, stepping towards her as he kicked the snow at his feet. "Happy thoughts probably won't always help."</p><p>He crossed onto her side of the pathway. She wasn't sure why it felt like he was stepping into her territory.</p><p>She rose a brow sarcastically and spoke with a hint of playfulness. "If I can control it when face to face with a Death-Eater cunt like you, i'm sure i'll be fine."</p><p>His eyes twisted, falling down onto her face as he stepped closer to her. Not too close, he had clearly figured he had broken the boundaries between them nights ago when he was drunk but still close enough for her to smell the hint of apple in his dark hair.</p><p>"What's wrong with you today?" He tilted his head to the side. "Sounds like something had crawled up your ass to fester inside of it. I've never heard you use the word cunt as many times as I have before meeting you at the hotel."</p><p>Hermione huffed, but she pulled her wand-less hand up to lay against the skin beneath his collarbone.</p><p>He was in her territory, but this was a way of showing him she was the leader.</p><p>His muscles tensed under her touch.</p><p>"Nothing is festering up my ass other than my hatred for you." She tapped his skin with a bitter smile and span on her feet, starting to walk away from him.</p><p>"Granger!" He growled and ran after her as she stumbled in the snow in the empty field. "We aren't finished!"</p><p>"We should head back before it gets dark." Hermione replied over her shoulder, not bothering to look if he was still following her.</p><p>She could hear the crunch of his boots against the frozen twigs and noted he was there.</p><p>She kept walking so they could reach the clearing to apparate, just beside the small woodland where the floor was clear. Apparating on thick piles of snow could lead to disaster if you slipped. You'd be sliced in half—most likely.</p><p>"It won't be dark for hours yet." He yelled again, annoyance ridden in his words. "You do one successful spell and then want to head back? That's pathetic."</p><p>
  <em>No, I'd rather go and practice alone in the safe-house because you're so annoying.</em>
</p><p>"I feel tired, we can continue tomorrow." Hermione said, stopping in her tracks a meter away from the apparation point.</p><p>He caught up with her with his hands stuffed into his pockets.</p><p>"I told you, I have to visit my friend tomorrow." He responded, a hint of hesitation in his words.</p><p>Hermione noted it had been a little over a week since she had noticed Draco departing to wherever he disappeared to. He still had not confessed where he had been going and she struggled to push her curiosity to the back of her mind. She assumed it to be something involving Dark Magic. For all she knew—he was going back to conspire with the Death-Eaters in ways to kill her.</p><p>He had still not earned her trust.</p><p>He was still cruel and evil and very much capable of doing something so malicious.</p><p>Draco being a spy was still something she considered.</p><p>Yet the idea of him doing something so spooky made her laugh.</p><p>She huffed and opened her mouth to make a comment, but her words are stifled by the sound of familiar hushed voices coming from the edge of the clearing.</p><p>Her stomach burned at the sight.</p><p>Draco eyes stunned to <em>them</em> like they were his prey, he squinted, then growled, grabbing Hermione's arm and pulling her behind a wired hedge that was covered in thick droplets of snow.</p><p>To say she was shocked would have been an understatement.</p><p>Because she thought they were in the clear, on the edge of snowy London in a concealed field with woodland trees. She believed there was nobody else around.</p><p>She clearly thought wrong because Theodore Nott was walking along the pathway draped in a thick black robe with three other Death Eaters trailing behind him, marching in synchronisation, all in matching cloaks.</p><p>"What the fuck." Hermione muttered, but Draco slapped his hand over her mouth and squeezed his palm so hard over her skin she thought she was going to be sick.</p><p>"Shut the fuck up!" He whispered, breath fanning her face before he violently dropped his hand to pile them into fists.</p><p>She wondered how and <em>why</em> they were here. It would have made sense if they had decided to duel in the middle of Oxford Street, but they were careful.</p><p>They had clearly underestimated the power riddled inside of Voldemort's disciples.</p><p>Hermione watched silently as Theo stopped on the pathway and whispered to the other Death Eaters, all whom Hermione could not see their faces in the fog and they suddenly broke apart and began to head in different directions.</p><p>"W-we need to apparate." Hermione's voice was so quiet she wasn't sure if Draco had heard her.</p><p>He stared down at her for a moment but looked back up to watch carefully where each of the Death-Eaters was heading. Most had headed left, towards the small creek that ran across the edge of the field which was ideal as Hermione and Draco were hidden towards the right, by the clearing.</p><p>"Do you wanna get splinched in half?" Draco whispered back, not tearing his eyes away from Theo who had his wand drawn at his sides.</p><p>She questioned if he was hesitant to apparate because his best-friend was meters away from him. She questioned if deep down he was considering showing himself and begging for Theo's redemption.</p><p>Hermione noticed a hint of disparity fall over Draco's features. His eyes were drenched in betrayal.</p><p>She had been so busy pondering Draco's emotion and he had been so busy watching the actions of Theo that they both had not noticed the sound of crunching behind them until someone cleared their throat.</p><p>Hermione's mouth went dry.</p><p>Pansy Parkinson.</p><p>She stood behind them, sticking out like a sore thumb against the white snow in her black robe.</p><p>Her hair was now cut to just beneath her chin and if it wasn't for the familiarity of her viridian-speckled eyes and stable black nail polish, Hermione might not have recognised her.</p><p>Because Pansy's face was riddled with Dark Magic.</p><p>For a moment, Hermione believed she felt Draco's hand grasp her wrist. But she couldn't be sure. Her body felt numb with fear, she reached for her wand with her other hand and prepared herself to apparate her and Draco back to the safe-house.</p><p>Pansy opened her mouth to speak but then closed it. Hermione anticipated Draco to say something, to beg, to fight—but he just sat there, back against the hedge with his eyes squinted towards her.</p><p>Something faltered over Pansy's face as she stared at Draco, then at Hermione, then back to Draco, then back at Hermione.</p><p>It almost looked like anguish.</p><p>"Anything over there Parkinson?" Someone yelled from the far side of the hedge.</p><p>Pansy looked up to the voice and pursed her lips together before staring back down at the two of them shaking in the snow.</p><p>Hermione felt pressure on her wrist. Draco had definitely wrapped his palm around it.</p><p>"No." Pansy yelled back. She cleared her throat and let her fingers balled into fists. "N-nothing."</p><p>Then she disappeared, shooting another glance behind her before returning to the left side of the field.</p><p>Trying to not let herself become riddled with confusion, Hermione gripped her wand and closed her eyes to apparate her and Draco with the risk of being splinched.</p><p>At this point, she didn't care.</p><p>They landed on their backs on the stone pavement in Southwark.</p><p>Draco used his wand to reveal the safe house and stumbled inside without a word.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Fifteen.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione dreamt of Blaise Zabini that night.</p><p>It was nothing spectacular. All she could recall was sitting at Slunghorn's dinner table staring over at him while he ate his dessert. He smiled at her and then looked away and continued talking to Hestia Carrow.</p><p>She woke up with a headache.</p><p>The first thing she thought when she opened her eyes was that Blaise Zabini did not look like a murderer.</p><p>Especially not one that would kill his Best-Friends mother.</p><p>Hermione had to remind herself that Draco had never <em>looked</em> like a murderer either, not until he had attempted to kill Dumbledore on the Astronomy tower just last year.</p><p>Murderers could be anyone—They could look like anyone.</p><p>Murderers could take the form of something gorgeous and something pure but still be riddled with deep-rooted evil and something unbinding.</p><p>Her mind wandered to Pansy.</p><p>She thought about Pansy's clear skin and her green eyes. She thought about Pansy's petite body that was drowned by the black cloak worn by the evilest of evils. Hermione felt her stomach twist at the image of confusion in her eyes when she looked down at her and Draco shivering in the snow.</p><p>Pansy did not look like a Murderer. While she seemed absolutely riddled with Dark Magic, evil and hatred, deep down, her face was placid with beauty and immaculately—She did not look like a <em>Murderer</em>. Something told Hermione that she was, though. In some way or another. She was probably a Murderer, she had probably killed or broken bones or cursed innocent people to have risen so far in Voldemort's ranks.</p><p>Most people in the Dark Army had either killed or attempted to kill. That was how it worked.</p><p>Hermione had questioned Pansy the entire night before she fell asleep. Why she had stumbled away from them with chattering teeth and did not reveal them to Theo or the others with Jubilation. It felt suspicious.</p><p>As it was Hermione, she had thought of countless different scenarios. She tried to dissect the look she saw in Pansy's eyes—it wasn't fear and it wasn't anger. It wasn't the type of look found inside the eye of a Murderer. It was something like sadness, maybe jealousy or pity.</p><p>She wondered what the outcome would have been if it had been Theo who had discovered them behind the hedge. She recalled Theo being at Hogwarts at the beginning of Winter term, for at least one week. She did not see him often, like her, he hid in the shadows and kept his head down.</p><p>He had not attended any of the classes Hermione had scheduled with him.</p><p>Maybe he had only shown up to Hogwarts to make sure Draco was not there.</p><p>Hermione bit her tongue and stood from the sofa.</p><p>She and Draco had not spoken on the matter since Hermione had apparated them back to Southwark the day before.</p><p>She was not sure of the time, she was not even sure of the date. After the failed attempts with her old wand, she had successfully conjured up a calendar with her new one, but she rarely glanced at it.</p><p>Seeing the days go by only made her more frightened of what was to come.</p><p>Hermione walked to the kitchen. There was no breakfast prepared today. She bit her lip and told herself it was strange to have expected it. She should not be comfortable with the routine of living with Draco Malfoy.</p><p>While thinking, she felt the ground rumbling beneath her. Her mind reminded her that Draco had mentioned he was visiting his mysterious '<em>friend</em>' today and he must have been returning from his excursion.</p><p>The front door slammed so hard the chandelier tickled above her head.</p><p>She heard nothing for a moment before Draco stumbled into the kitchen rubbing the patch of fabric on his jacket that was above his Dark Mark.</p><p>He looked at her with a pointed expression.</p><p>"You're awake."</p><p>She turned to face him and rested her hand on the countertop.</p><p>"You've been out." She commented back. He seemed awkward. Annoyed. "Going to tell me where, yet?"</p><p>Draco looked down at her through his nose and crossed to the window. He pulled out his cigarette packet and lit one before he spoke.</p><p>"What did I tell you about being nosey?" He quirked a brow before bringing the cigarette to his lips.</p><p>"You always say that but you're the most intrusive person I know." Hermione leant back against the counter and fiddled with the hem of her jumper.</p><p>"I don't ask personal questions about <em>you</em> unless it's completely needed, Granger." he scoffed. "There's nothing that interesting to know about you, anyway."</p><p>She stared at him through squinted eyes for a moment while she thought. He simply squinted his eyes back and for a moment Hermione mistook it for playfulness until he trailed smoke from his mouth and hesitantly broke the contact between their pupils.</p><p>Though she was not the most interesting person—She did somewhat disagree. Not only did she want to spark up every task she had involved herself with regarding Harry and Voldemort so far, she thought about how she had obliviated her parents and sent them to Australia.</p><p>She also wondered if someone like Draco Malfoy would find her suicide attempt in the Black Lake something of interest.</p><p>She confirmed he most likely would. He was cruel like that.</p><p>She bit her tongue and refrained from letting it spill from her mouth. He did not deserve the satisfaction of knowing she could have been so weak.</p><p>"I think your little excursions are something of importance, are they not?" She tilted her head and moved to lean her elbows against the counter with her back bent. "For all I know you could be going back to relay information to the Dark Army about Harry and the Order."</p><p>He chuckled bitterly.</p><p>Hermione tore her eyes away when Draco leant his head backwards and exposed his throat in the pale winter light to let a thick stream of spoke fizzle into the air.</p><p>"You've not told me anything about the Order other than the fact Four Eyes and his Weasel side-kick decided to leave you alone at Hogwarts to hunt for Horcruxes." He flicked the rest of his cigarette into the snow between the crack in the open window.</p><p>"That information alone could be enough for Voldemort to have a step up." Hermione retorted.</p><p>"For all we know, he already knows that they are hunting for them." He shrugged like he wasn't bothered. "For all we know, he's already found Potter and sliced him to pieces on my family's dining table.</p><p>Hermione felt herself grow pale.</p><p>"Don't say things like that." Her voice raised in volume. "That's a horrible thing to say, Malfoy."</p><p>"You think I'd care if Voldemort killed Harry or Ron? Or anyone in the Order for that sake?" He sucked his teeth and turned towards her. "Because unless you have forgotten, I hate each and every one of them."</p><p>He was confusing. It made Hermione's head hurt. He didn't like the Order, but he was placid in his stance with the Dark Army—where did he stand?</p><p>He walked towards her and squeezed himself between her body that was leaning forwards against the counter and the dining table. Hermione tried to not gasp when he pressed his palm against the small of her back for a mere second while he slid past her. She stood quickly so her back was pressed against the counter rather than her elbows.</p><p>He opened the cupboard and pulled out the bottle of fire-whisky.</p><p>"So you wouldn't care if <em>I</em> died then?" Hermione questioned with a hint of sadness laced in her voice that she didn't plan to be there.</p><p>His face tensed and Hermione watched his jaw roll under the kitchen light.</p><p>He thought for a moment as he poured the whiskey into a glass and held it up in his hand.</p><p>He walked towards her with a pointed expression, his eyes latching onto her face like she was a drug and he was an addict.</p><p>He stopped centimetres in-front of her and took a sip of his drink. Hermione didn't bother to even question why he was drinking at midday, she had become accustomed to it.</p><p>"Could you even call yourself an active member of the Order, Granger?" He cocked his head to the side with a vicious expression. His flip had switched. "Are you even fighting for the good side? It seems to me you're sitting peacefully in this safe-house with a Death-Eater? <em>hm</em>?"</p><p>His tongue ran over his bottom lip. She accidentally remembered when she had torn his nose and he had licked away the blood that ran onto his mouth.</p><p>"I think if it came to the moment of me being in a battle—" Hermione thought about it for a second. Her heart clenched in her chest because she had avoided thinking about this since the day she packed her bags and headed to Hogsmead. "—I wouldn't stand there and not help the side I've always fought for."</p><p>Draco closed the gap between them. His eyes felt poisonous against her skin. Hermione wasn't sure why she felt herself shying beneath his stare—She had told herself many times he would do this simply to provoke her.</p><p>Yet, as he used his free hand to grip her chin to tilt her eyes up to meet his own, she trembled with anticipation.</p><p>He leant down to breathe against her lips.</p><p>
  <em>He does this every-time, Hermione. He's provoking you. He's being cruel. Push him away. Hex him. Do something. Do not kiss a Death-Eater. You hate him. Do not kiss someone as vile as Draco Malfoy.</em>
</p><p>Hermione wanted to listen to her brain and push him away from her but she could not move.</p><p>"Then," His breath tasted like cigarettes and whiskey. So welcoming and delicious that Hermione wanted to scream at how much she craved it.</p><p>He dropped her chin.</p><p>"No." He staggered away like he had realised what he had been doing. "I wouldn't care."</p><p>—</p><p>
  <em>Hermione felt like she was floating. On what—she could not tell.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Not until she heard the crash of waves around her and she opened her eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She was standing on-top of a slab of rock on the middle of the grey ocean, it was moving slightly with the force of waves wisping at the base of the rock.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The sudden urge to vomit came over her, but she could not be sick. It felt almost impossible.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>While she was confused, she was intrigued.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>How did she end up here?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She closed her eyes shut to try and wake herself up. She must have been dreaming. She must have been. For this was not anywhere that she knew, or anywhere that she remembered.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Hello."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione jumped out of her skin at the voice behind her and nearly skidded on a pad of water on the slippery rock beneath her boots.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She turned on her feet. She met the face of a young man.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He smiled at her. A thin lipped smile laced with anxiousness and fear.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione eyed him for a moment. She knew him. From somewhere. Shoulder length black-hair slick with the mist from the sea, Skin as pale as parchment. In that moment, she noticed he had the faintest line of freckles dancing over his nose.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her mind wandered back to the first memory she had slipped into while sleeping.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You're Regulus Black." Hermione breathed, her voice shaking. "Y—You're him, right?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Regulus laughed. His lips twisted up and his eyes squinted towards her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"That means it is working." He spoke while nodding, confirming himself. "That means the memories are working."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione stared at him for a moment. He was fuzzy around the edges like he was fake. Like he was a hologram—She reminded herself that he was fake. He was a memory. He was now dead.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She bit the inside of her lip and used her hands to steady herself against the edge of the rock. She felt awfully dizzy and she felt awfully confused.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'll explain," Regulus spoke, linking his hands at the front of his grey waistcoat.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione took notice of the symbols carved into his fingers with black ink.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>An arrow. A circle. A square. A cross.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I learnt this tactic from Tom Riddle." He spoke, he stepped closer to Hermione. She felt her chest twinge.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was dead. He was dead. He was dead.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"W—what Tactic?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He chuckled sadly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I cannot say it exactly." He told her, when her eyes twisted up in confusion, he continued. "Tom Riddle is smart. Very smart. He is a very powerful legilimens"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I was just told a powerful Witch would come across my creation in a prophecy sometime after Riddle's return as the Dark Lord. I doubted if it would be true. I questioned my Professors truth behind her fortune telling." He pursed his lips together. "But I guess she was right, else you would not be here."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione's mouth fell open to speak. But she could not.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'm telling you now, my creation holds something special. I cannot say exactly what. He will see it in my mind."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione swallowed and raised a brow.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Your creation?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He nodded down at her hand. She had only now realised she was holding her wand—his wand.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her fingers had been clenched around it so hard that her knuckles were turning white.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"That wand holds she core to destruct something very </em>
  <b>
    <em>very</em>
  </b>
  <em> important." He pursed his lips together and looked down at his watch. "It is made with someone I was told to guard. Something i was told to protect."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He paused before continuing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"But I did not protect what I was told to protect. I destroyed it and put it inside of that wand. Right inside of that cave over there." He pointed towards a crack in the cliffs behind them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione's mind reminded her of the smell of flesh, the screaming. The flames.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You burnt to death in there, didn't you?" Hermione asked, feeling herself pale.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"No. The flames were the outcome of making the wand. It was so powerful it could not be controlled. I sat in that cave for days to make the wand. I drank poison to make it. I want you to know how deadly it can be. How hard you're going to have to work to let it obey you."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She listened. She took it in as much as she could.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Then how did you die?" Hermione let her noseyness sink through her even at a time like this. "Tom?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Regulus scoffed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Again, no." He looked at his watch again. "I was dragged to my death beneath the water in the cave by the Inferi. My body was so weak after making the wand that i couldn't—i could not fight them off."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'm sorry."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He chuckled again. The wind ran through his hair. Hermione noticed scars down the left side of his face that quickly concealed themselves behind his black hair once the wind disappeared.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I didn't create this memory for pity. I created it to warn you that—" He stepped closer to her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He had become paler, his body almost transparent, like he was disappearing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"—You need to continue to act the way you are acting. Living where you are living. Doing what you are doing. A time will come where that wand will require you to act bravely, you will know when the time is right."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione tried to reach out to touch his hand, but he was fading.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"A time will come where the choice between living or dying stands with that wand, Rose."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He said nothing more before disappearing into the wind with a soft nod.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione felt tears growing in her eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Regulus Black had died for the second time before her eyes. He was dead. He was dead. She wanted to cry because he was just a boy. He was just like her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He seemed brave and strong and powerful.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He did not seem like he deserved to be dead.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione felt her lungs lurching with pain and annoyance and then she was spinning again, spinning so fast her arms were flying around her head.</em>
</p><p>Hermione woke with a gasp standing by the edge of the sofa.</p><p>Her blanket was on fire and there was blood trailing from her nose.</p><p>The only thing she could recognise was Draco pulling her wand from her hand and throwing it against the floor.</p><p>Her eyes were fuzzy. They felt bruised. They felt inconsolable.</p><p>She felt Draco's cold hands on her shoulders. He was shaking her, he was shaking her with such force she thought she was going to snap in two.</p><p>"Granger!" He was yelling. She could barely make out his words. "Granger for fuck sake <em>snap</em> out of it!"</p><p>She had not realised she was screaming. Her voice box felt like it was straining.</p><p>"Granger!"</p><p>Draco was shaking her and he was yelling. He was yelling. All she knew was that he was yelling but she could not work out what he had begun to say. Her ears felt like they were bleeding.</p><p>She rolled her eyes into the back of her head before everything went black and she hit the ground with a thud.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione cried for three hours when she woke up.</p><p>She knew she was not weak anymore. The Hermione that had possessed her back at Hogwarts was gone. She was brave, she was powerful.</p><p>Hermione knew better than to cry over stupid things like boys and friends and storytellers.</p><p>Now— She cried because it felt as though her body had been set on fire. Like she had been tortured. Like someone had reached into her chest and tore her heart to tiny little shreds.</p><p>Her fingers twitched without her consent and her brain was riddled with confusion and sadness.</p><p>Draco sat on the other side of the dining table reading the Daily Prophet while she cried.</p><p>He had silently made her a cup of tea for her to sip in the spaces where she stopped crying.</p><p>He had not commented on her tears. She knew he was waiting until she was somewhat stable to question her about what happened. She knew he was waiting until her mind was clear enough so he could penetrate her mind and make her feel guilty for acting how did she did.</p><p>Hermione took a deep breath and rekindled herself. The potion she had taken was starting to work and her lungs started to feel as though they weren't burning anymore. Her chest went numb with relaxation and she felt her fingers stop twitching.</p><p>Draco stared over the top of the paper at her. She watched his jaw clench before his eyes fell back down to the writing.</p><p>"Any articles I should know about this week?" Hermione asked carefully. She was curious if Draco was still being labelled as a missing War criminal for the entire wizarding world to see.</p><p>He breathed through his nose and turned to the next page.</p><p>"Surprisingly, no." He didn't look up at her while he spoke. "Weirdly placid. Mostly speaking about the accidental death during the quidditch match in Romania."</p><p>Hermione pursed her lips together. "Right, okay."</p><p>Draco turned another page. Then another, then another.</p><p>Hermione sat in silence as she sipped on her tea.</p><p>"Are we going to talk about it?" Hermione asked, flinching when Draco turned another page so hard the paper nearly tore in two.</p><p>"About what? You having a breakdown at six in the morning and nearly setting my mothers house on fire?" He quirked a brow.</p><p>"Well, yes." She wasn't sure why the air around them was so awkward. "I think it would be reasonable to tell you what happened."</p><p>Draco scoffed and threw the paper down onto the table. He seemed rather tense. Rather broody, Hermione began to feel like she was walking on a tightrope every-time she spoke to him, trying to work out if any wrong word would send her flying over the edge.</p><p>"Let me guess. Another weird memory regarding Regulus and that fucking <em>wand</em>." He pointed down at the wand that sat beside Hermione's mug.</p><p>Hermione took a deep breath before telling Draco what happened word for word. She spoke so quickly she wasn't sure she had even had time to stop to breath. She told him about the contents of Regulus' death and the cave. How he had died making the wand.</p><p>She told him about how he had called her Rose and not Hermione.</p><p>How that had made her insides twist with something vile.</p><p>Draco crossed his hands on the table. He looked as though he was thinking but also as though he didn't care one bit. Hermione tried to study his features but they sat beneath the yellow light simply unmoving.</p><p>"Seems like whatever Regulus used to create that wand is rather important to Voldemort." Draco ran his tongue over his bottom lip while he spoke.</p><p>He reached over the table and took her mug. He sipped it without asking before returning it to the coaster by Hermione's elbow.</p><p>"Yes, Regulus seemed awfully worried about exposing what it was." Hermione gulped, she tried to push the image of him fading into dust from the back of her mind. "But, I have to trust him. He said the time will come where it'll make sense."</p><p>Draco snorted and rolled his eyes.</p><p>"Didn't I fucking tell you that already?" His fingers clenched. "Merlin's beard I forgot how dumb Mudbloods really are."</p><p>Hermione stared at him and watched him laugh bitterly to himself.</p><p>"Yes Mudbloods are rather dumb." She nodded. "So dumb that it only took me two days to fix your broken back without much training in healing. So dumb that I could differentiate the difference between a jinx and a hex at just eleven years old. So dumb that I was—"</p><p>"I get it." Draco clenched his jaw.</p><p>Hermione scoffed.</p><p>"You really worried me, you know." Draco spoke after a moment, his eyes were trained to the window. His voice was laced with a strange softness.</p><p>Hermione questioned what he meant for a moment. It almost looked like he was questioning himself too, because he cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair while he added to his statement.</p><p>"I thought I would have had to pick your dirty muggle ashes up from the ground because you were going to sizzle yourself with the flames."</p><p>Hermione clicked her tongue. "You're very confusing, Malfoy."</p><p>"Elaborate, Granger." He tilted his head to the side. He reached forward once more and took a sip of Hermione's tea.</p><p>
  <em>I can't keep my hands to myself.</em>
</p><p>"I think you know what I mean." Her voice was placid. But it was true, his face fumbled into a scowl and his eyes had paled lightly.</p><p>"If you are referring that whatever i said when i was drunk, then it was <em>nothing</em> but drunken slander." Draco had curled his hands into fists on the table.</p><p>"Okay." Hermione nodded, letting a hint of sarcasm leak through her words. "Drunken slander—because i'm filthy, right?"</p><p>He stood, letting the feet of the chair scratch against the floorboards.</p><p>Draco growled and headed towards the hallway, but not before stopping beside Hermione's chair.</p><p>He leant over her, one hand on the table and one on the back of her chair. Hermione gripped her trousers beneath the table when the smell of pine wafted from his silk pyjamas and into her nose.</p><p>His lips brushed her ear with something malicious hidden behind his actions.</p><p>"I would tread very lightly, Mudblood." He snarled into her ear, like a caged animal trying to mark his dominance. "Before I do something we both regret."</p><p>He stumbled upstairs without another word.</p><p>Hermione felt herself giggling. Not with humour or happiness, but with frustration and annoyance.</p><p>Something she'd regret? She rolled her eyes at the thought. She told herself he meant he would hex her or curse her. That's what she would regret. Nothing else. Nothing else at all. Simply violence and Dark Magic.</p><p>Hermione cringed when she felt the ghost of her lips on her ear and she ran to take a shower to wipe any trance of Draco Malfoy from her body.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>— R.A.B</em>
  </b>
</p><p>        </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Sixteen.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco hadn't left a sketch for Hermione in what felt like weeks.</p><p>She had almost forgotten that he even tended to leave her drawings that filled her heart with a feeling of mortal peril.</p><p>Yet today, she woke with a sketch placed on-top the coffee table. Just sitting there. Taunting her. Compelling her to grasp it in her fingers.</p><p>This time—Hermione couldn't deny that it was absolutely beautifully drawn.</p><p>It was one of the most stunning drawings she had ever seen in her life. It almost made her forget it was drawn by such a putrid being as Draco Malfoy.</p><p>It was an arrangement of Roses, they were almost flying from the ground, swirling and tumbling around a hand that held a wand. She assumed it to be her own from the jewel pressed against the palm of the hand.</p><p>At first, Hermione did not think it was anything surrounding the notion of death, which confused her. Not until she squinted and saw multiple bodies lying in the snow behind the roses. <em>Dead</em>. None of the faces were drawn. Then she noticed the small lines in charcoal pencil on her fingers that almost gave it the effect that her skin was decaying.</p><p>Beneath it, the familiar handwriting.</p><p>
  <em>Rose Waterlily, Hermione Granger, Mudblood, killed by the power within Regulus Black's creation.</em>
</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione spent the entire morning sitting by the fireplace with her head in her hands.</p><p>The warmth of the fire engulfed her as she wrecked her brain with thoughts she constantly told herself <em>not</em> to think about.</p><p>She had told herself multiple times to not get into this state. The horrid state of overthinking and thinking about everything and everyone to the point she became dizzy and was nearing the edge of going insane.</p><p>Ginny's face sat in her mind for about twenty minutes. Hermione wondered if she had royally fucked up her friendship with the youngest Weasley sibling by leaving her to her own devices back at Hogwarts. Guilt ran through her veins even though she desperately tried to not let it—But how could she not feel guilty? Hermione had attempted to kill herself and then ran away the next day without leaving a trace of her soul in the dormitory. She wondered how the others had reacted to her departure as well; Seamus, Dean, Neville. They probably all hated her.</p><p>She wondered what would, <em>will</em>, happen when they discovered she had been filling her disappearance with the company of Draco Malfoy.</p><p>Because they hated The Malfoy's almost as much as they hated Voldemort himself.</p><p>But every-time she even thought about returning to Hogwarts to free her friends from the grip of the Carrow's and the pain of looming war—all Hermione could taste was the bitter water from the Black Lake that had engulfed her skin when she tried to drown herself.</p><p>She knew she could not return. Not yet.</p><p>Then Hermione's mind ran to other students she would have never thought herself to be worrying about. The Slytherin's.</p><p>She sat for another twenty minutes trying to work out the events and reasons that possessed Blaise Zabini to have killed Narcissa Malfoy. Maybe it was a freak accident during a battle, maybe it was an accident in the Manor. Maybe Blaise was set to kill Narcissa by Voldemort, meaning he would have no choice. Just like how Draco was set to kill Dumbledore—but unlike Draco, Blaise had been successful. It was a promising scenario. But Hermione could not assume it to be the truth until she was certain.</p><p>Because what could Narcissa Malfoy have done for Voldemort to set out for her demise?</p><p>Blaise had not been there the two times Hermione and Draco had crossed paths with Theo and Pansy. The other Death-Eaters that accompanied them we're definitely not Blaise Zabini although she could not recognise them completely.</p><p>Hermione squinted and tried to think about where he could be.</p><p>She thought about it until her brain began to decay.</p><p>Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek until it began to bleed and she huffed and dragged herself away from the warmth of the fire. She grasped her wand from the coffee table and slid it into the inside pocket of her beige winter jacket.</p><p>She needed to take her mind away from all of <em>this</em>. The best place to do that would be somewhere far away from the tendencies of luring magic.</p><p>Hermione was tying up the laces on her trainers when she heard the stairs creaking beneath a bodies weight.</p><p>"Where are you going?" Hermione glanced up to meet Draco's confused glare as he met her at the bottom of the safe-houses dusty stairway.</p><p>Hermione's eyes lingered over his black sweatshirt for a short moment. She noticed a hole in the threading on his left shoulder. She made a mental note to repair it when she returned.</p><p>"I'm going to clear my mind." She said back without a hint of emotion in her voice. "In Muggle London."</p><p>He cocked his head to the side.</p><p>"Okay, let me grab my shoes." He spoke matter of factly and reached down to grip his boots in his hands.</p><p>Hermione scoffed and rolled on the heel of her feet. "I'm going alone."</p><p>Draco met her eyes, his expression had turned slightly vicious.</p><p>"No you're not." He rolled his eyes, sliding his left foot into his shoe. "Don't be so stupid."</p><p>Hermione squinted at him through her lashes. His emotions were unreadable. He seemed angry yet passive. It was the first time Hermione had spoken to him since he had whispered into her ear on the dining table.</p><p>The air around them was slightly tense. Like a rubber band being tugged, waiting to snap.</p><p>"Yes, I am going <em>alone</em>, Malfoy." Her hand reached for the doorknob but he grasped her wrist in his hand to still her movement. "What? You think heading out into London while your face has been plastered all over the Daily Prophet is a good idea?"</p><p>He dropped her wrist and chucked bitterly.</p><p>"And you think heading into London <em>alone</em> is a good idea?" He quirked back. "You may think it's safe because you're heading to Muggle London, but you're a Mudblood and there are Death-Eater's hiding in every corner of the city."</p><p>"Even better, at least then i'd be out if your hair, right?" She shrugged sarcastically.</p><p>He continued to kneel down and lace up his boots.</p><p>"Malfoy, I'm being serious." She stared down at him, trying to read his expression. She couldn't. "You don't let me come with you when you visit your—Friend. So you cannot come with me."</p><p>He sneered at her as he stood to meet her level and crooked a knot in his neck.</p><p>"Where are we heading?" He asked, something tugging at the corners of his mouth.</p><p>Hermione could not read if it was viciousness or a hint of playful aroma. It seemed like an unhealthy mix of both. Like Draco was treading on the edge of enmity and gaiety.</p><p>That made her feel uneasy.</p><p>"<em>I'm</em> heading to Greenwich." She spoke as Draco pulled out his wand and the ground beneath her shook as the house exposed itself. "You can head wherever you like."</p><p>He brushed past her and opened the door, shoving her outside before following.</p><p>Hermione noticed that the snow had begun to melt. It was now early January and the outskirts of London had begun to fall victim to winter rain. Though, today it was clear. Hermione could not see one cloud in the sky, but it was still cold as ever, her teeth chattered and she quickly muttered a warming charm around her and Draco.</p><p>"Greenwich? What type of establishment is that?" He asked, walking down the small stairway and onto the street. He stood by the gate of the house and waited for her, one elbow crooked up onto the wall that connected the entrance ways to the other terrace houses.</p><p>While he waited, Hermione saw his white hair turning the darkest shade of black. She assumed hers had done the same.</p><p>It changed his entire face. What soft curves had been left seemed sharp, his nose appeared longer and higher, his lips became redder due to the contrast in obsidian.</p><p>Hermione sucked a breath in through her throat before speaking.</p><p>"It's not an establishment, it's a town." She scoffed, finally meeting him at the gate and looking up at him before walking into the middle of the empty road. "Malfoy, I really don't think it's safe if you come-"</p><p>"Listen Granger." He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked around to make sure there were no muggles in the surrounding area—Most of them weren't accustomed to seeing apparating wizards. "I've told you, you aren't going alone."</p><p>She bit the inside of her cheek again and could still feel the bruising from where she had made it bleed by the fire.</p><p>There was no winning with Draco Malfoy—she knew that. He was the most stubborn person she had ever met. Even though he had made it completely clear he found her absolutely vile and 'insufferable', she knew he would not let her win and apparate to London alone. If he wanted to come, he <em>would</em> come. Even if his intentions were completely unclear.</p><p>Why would Draco want to come to Muggle London in the first place?</p><p>He made Hermione want to tear her eyes out in frustration.</p><p>"Well then." She breathed through her nose. "We should probably choose another hair colour to occupy—seeing as Pansy has already spotted us with black hair."</p><p>He glanced down at her and scoffed.</p><p>"What do you suggest? Blue? Purple? That's one way to attract the attention of murderers."</p><p>She gawked and nudged him with her elbow.</p><p>"I was thinking either orange or a different shade of blonde, actually." She suggested with an exhaustive tone hidden in her words.</p><p>He nudged her this time. His elbow dug into her ribs and she had to push him away with a grunt. </p><p>"I would rather have my intestines eaten by Fenrir Greyback than look like <em>anything</em> like a Weasley." His voice seemed awfully playful. "Here, this will do."</p><p>He leant down and picked a few fallen leaves from the ground and with a flick of his wand he transfigured them into two black hats.</p><p>He put it on with a smug smile and handed the other to Hermione. It was a fisherman's type of hat, one that hung over his forehead and covered most of his eyes. He wouldn't be easily recognised at a quick glance.</p><p>"Now, Mudblood." He held his arm out for her to take. His skin was cold to the touch even beneath his jumper and the warming charm. "Take me to Greenwich."</p><p>—</p><p>Greenwich was nearly colder than Southwark.</p><p>She discovered that when Draco had slipped on a pocket of ice on a stairway and growled in embarrassment. Hermione couldn't deny it was more than satisfactory to watch him cower behind her as his face turned a bright shade of red.</p><p>He had no power in the muggle world. That was what made it so satisfying. He had to simply walk away without making it a big spectacle or setting the stairs on fire like he would have done back at Hogwarts.</p><p>He was feeble.</p><p>Hermione was looking for a bookshop. She could vaguely remember one being in the area but she could not remember the exact location. A book would massively take her mind away from thoughts about Ginny and Hogwarts and Harry and Ron and Blaise Zabini.</p><p>She needed to douse her mind with something fictional.</p><p>Yet, Hermione didn't seek it out, instead, she walked slowly, taking in the city of Greenwich. She hadn't been here since she was thirteen years old and her Grandfather had brought her a bracelet from the market. He passed away four days later and she had never come back.</p><p>Hermione had apparated them just behind a tunnel that led to Canary Wharf, right beside the Cutty Sark. Draco had turned his nose up at the surroundings but Hermione could spot his eyes beneath his hat glancing over the Christmas lights that had yet to be taken down. The blue in his eyes twinkled with something she could not place.</p><p>She watched as he looked up at the Cutty Sark and squinted, trying to work out what it was and why it was there.</p><p>"There is a big boat randomly in the middle of the town." He concluded, shrugging with confusion.</p><p>He continued walking and Hermione had to skip to catch up with his large strides.</p><p>"It's actually the Cutty Sark, it was built in Scotland around 1869 for the Jock Willis Shipping Line, it was one of the last tea clippers to be built." Hermione told him, having to shout over a busker as they walked. "It's quite fascinating, reall—"</p><p>Draco stopped and Hermione nearly tumbled over the front of his boots.</p><p>"Granger." He poked her shoulder so hard she thought it might leave a bruise. "I don't really give a fuck."</p><p>She huffed as he continued walking with his head down and turned the corner to where there were multiple tents with sellers beneath. Some were selling jewellery, clothes, food and somewhere selling paintings and photographs.</p><p>Hermione let her eyes wander a stand that held silver jewellery as Draco disappeared behind her to wander silently by himself. The silver pieces reminded her of her Grandfather—He had gotten her a bracelet that had an emblem of a lion on the clasp.</p><p>She had lost it during the battle at the Department of Mysteries after a curse hit her wrist and was never able to retrieve it afterwards.</p><p>Unfortunately, this time, none contained the engravings of a lion. One had a small moon, one had a star. None of them stood out to her until her eyes fell over the bracelet at the end. She inwardly laughed at how quickly something like could remind her of Hogwarts. Of the Slytherin house. Of <em>Draco</em>—because it had an engraving of a snake on the clasp.</p><p>Draco appeared at her side. She knew it was him from the way the smell of his sickly musky perfume drenched her nostrils.</p><p>"Are you done gawking at this shite?" He asked, earning a frown from the man behind the table.</p><p>"Why? Are you in a hurry?" She turned to look up at him beneath his hat. His features were stuck in an indefinite scowl.</p><p>"Actually, it feels as though there is a Cornish Pixie biting at the insides of my stomach." He paused. "In Muggle language; I am starving."</p><p>Hermione gripped his wrist and pulled him sharply away from the market stand before he could say anything else largely suspicious.</p><p>"If you were going to do anything but <em>complain</em> I would've hexed you to the wall and made you stay at the house." Hermione glared, trying to not let her temper get the best of her as she had told herself the trip to London would be one of peacefulness.</p><p>She began to walk, heading towards the city centre. Her eyes danced along the street until they landed on a Waterstones. With a sigh of relief, she headed towards it, knowing Draco was following by the sounds of his boots on the pavement and his grunts of dismissal.</p><p>"Don't you ever listen? I said I'm hungry." Draco's voice danced in her ear as she pushed open the entrance of the store and walked inside.</p><p>She dismissed his comment as she headed straight towards the Educational Novel's section.</p><p>Her fingers moved over different types of books, ones about feminism to equal rights and protests. Her fingers danced over a book with a red cover they covered the basics of the Second World War, but she grimaced with familiarity and moved to the next section which contained fictional novels.</p><p>"Do books really excite you this much, Granger?" Draco asked with a full expression.</p><p>For a moment Hermione had somewhat forgotten his presence. She looked towards him for a moment, he was gripping an old book by Emily Brontë in his hands and scanning open the pages with a bored expression.</p><p>"They used to excite me much more than they do now." She returned his bored tone in her voice. "They are a great way to distract the body of any blows."</p><p>He frowned beneath the curve of the bucket hat.</p><p>"Are you using my own words against me, Granger?" He rose a brow.</p><p>Hermione ran her fingers over the spines of the books and slid a peach coloured cover out and held it in her hands.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>The Edible Woman, Marget Atwood.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>Her mother had told her about this book when she was a child. Hermione gripped it and held it against her chest.</p><p>"I am." Hermione nodded back. "But I now steadily understand your word choices. It made sense."</p><p>Draco scoffed as Hermione walked towards the counter. He followed her like a mule.</p><p>"Buy me this, will you Granger?" He slid a book onto the counter beside her pink coloured novel. He lowered his voice into her ear. "I have no muggle money. I'll pay you back."</p><p>She glanced down at the cover as the cashier picked up the books to start scanning them.</p><p>"I didn't take you as a man who enjoyed poetry." Hermione quirked a brow up at him, but she was sure he could not see it beneath her hat.</p><p>It was a book of poetry Hermione had read as a child, she could not comprehend what the book's story had told. She had been young—yet she could still remember it was a very moving book with poetry that would become somewhat overwhelming to the senses.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>No Coward Soul is mine — Emily Brontë.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>Hermione scoffed at the irony. She thought back to the day she stared up at the ceiling of the boathouse and tried to depict whether Draco Malfoy was a coward or not.</p><p>"I cannot read the Daily Prophet every morning over breakfast now can I?" He quirked back. "Now, can we please go and find some food made by disgusting muggles to eat? I'm starving."</p><p>—</p><p>It was almost dark by the time Hermione and Draco even considered leaving the cafe they found themselves situated in. It was just on the edge of the riverbank, overlooking the Thames.</p><p>Draco was very adamant about getting a window seat, so Hermione was now staring out at the river, watching the Christmas lights bounce against the water. Draco sat across from her. He had ordered only a black coffee and a sandwich.</p><p>He had to use her money again, telling her he didn't "regularly carry putrid people money."</p><p>Hermione wasn't sure if the way his ankle kept brushing her own was accidental or deliberate. She ignored it either way.</p><p>They didn't speak for the most part. Draco had opened his book and began reading the pages slowly, taking almost ten minutes per page. Hermione wasn't sure if that was deliberate either, or if he was just struggling to understand the poetic terminology of somebody like Emily Brontë.</p><p>It had been hours. Hermione had ordered three drinks, Draco just the one. He drank it so slowly he had to use his wand beneath his jacket to charm it warm again several times.</p><p>They were the only people left in the cafe.</p><p>"We should probably head back, now," Hermione said. Draco pulled his eyes up from the book and then slammed it shut. "It's getting rather dark."</p><p>"In a bit." His voice was harsh as he sipped from his drink.</p><p>They fell into silence again. Curiosity fell into Hermione's mind and it gave her no warning before the words spilled from her lips.</p><p>"Do you really think Regulus' wand will kill me?" Her voice shook unexpectedly. "L—like in the sketch."</p><p>Draco stilled, he stared at her under hooded lashes and let his cup fall slowly from his mouth to clang against the table.</p><p>"If you don't learn how to control it, yes." He spoke with vinctidtion, a brutal tone beneath it. "You broke my back with a stupefy spell. Imagine if you had tried to curse a Death-Eater using an unforgivable? You'd have them dead in seconds, but the power would probably be too strong and could kill you as well."</p><p>Hermione opened her mouth to speak but he continued.</p><p>"The wand may have chosen you, Granger, but it seems as though you do not trust it. When I tried to help you out in the field, you were so—so hesitant about it." Draco's tongue ran across his bottom lip. "You need to trust it for it to trust you."</p><p>Hermione sipped her drink.</p><p>"We should practice again, soon." She noted, more to herself than to Draco.</p><p>Hermione heard the door of the cafe open but she paid it no attention.</p><p>Her eyes were lingering on Draco's face. The light in the cafe was rather dim, stunt with an orange hue. It fell against the wisps of black hair that escaped the base of the hat and sank into his eyes like fire. Hermione watched as his eyes followed the two men who had entered the cafe, not letting his stare break from their bodies for even a mere second.</p><p>Hermione still paid it no attention. Because Draco was biting his bottom lip, with one hand resting inside of his pocket and the other one palm-down against the plush of the armchair he was sitting in. Hermione didn't know why she felt breathless.</p><p>She didn't know why her mind was telling her that he was beautiful.</p><p>That would be wrong. It would be wrong to find somebody like Draco Malfoy anything other than monstrous.</p><p>She gulped. Her heart started to pound in her chest when his eyes flickered into her own for the shortest of moments before falling back behind her where the men had approached the counter. She could not see them from where she was sitting—but she watched them absentmindedly through the black inside of Draco's eyes.</p><p>And then, everything changed.</p><p>"Get down!" Draco yelled, throwing himself to the floor and bringing Hermione with him.</p><p>Before she had time to even comprehend it, her hand was inside of her pocket and pulling out her wand, she rolled on the floor to face the men and dodged an acid curse.</p><p>Her heart was lodged in her throat.</p><p>Hermione dived behind the armchair she had been sitting on, watching curses fly past her hair at close range. She was panicked. She tried to think, she tried to comprehend the situation. But she was panicked.</p><p>She glanced at Draco and watched him stand and yell the Sectumsempra curse created by Snape.</p><p>She vaguely remembered Harry telling her about it.</p><p>A shot of white flew past her face but was blocked by the victim and hit the wall.</p><p>Hermione knew she should have felt shocked to see him cast such a powerful, unforgiving spell with such casualness. A spell that radiated nothing but Dark Magic and torture and pain. He didn't even look effect. He didn't even look phased.</p><p>He had cast it like it was second nature to him.</p><p>She knew she should have been shocked.</p><p>But the air shifted. It turned sour. It turned powerful. It turned—lustful. It drew her in like a drug and her wand began to tingle so strongly in her fingers that she thought she may pass out.</p><p>Something in her chest snapped. She was overcome with brilliance and malevolence.</p><p>There was not a second to question it before she jumped to her feet and yelled something she never thought she would say in her life.</p><p>"Crucio!"</p><p>Like an explosion—Black smoke filled the room. Hermione's eyes went dark and her senses became broken but she could hear the sound of windows smashing, the furniture turning over and she felt her back smack the floor.</p><p>She had been thrown halfway across the room.</p><p>The walls were half-broken, the paint falling down and the lights dangling from the ceiling holding on for life by the wires.</p><p>When she looked up, she squinted through the smoke. It had hit one of the men. He was on the floor screaming for release.</p><p>The worst part about it was Hermione felt no remorse.</p><p>Before, she would have felt guilt. She would have felt remorse no matter who it was. But now, as she stared across at Draco who had ducked behind the armchair that was almost blown to pieces, with blood trickling down his face and black-ink like smoke sticking to his skin; she laughed.</p><p>"Are you fucking mental, Granger!" Draco yelled at her, quickly firing a stunner at the remaining man, who blocked it, before ducking back into his space behind the chair. "What did I <em>just</em> fucking say about that wand!"</p><p>She had never seen Draco look so furious. His eyes were black. His lips were stained with blood. Yet she could not stop laughing. She felt deranged—she felt free.</p><p>Hermione tried to stand, her legs felt as if they had been broken by the force that came from her wand but she still tried to stand, not paying attention to the pain in her body or the blood that fell from her wrists into puddles on the floor.</p><p>Her eyes caught Draco's as she raised her wand to hit the man with a spell.</p><p>"Stupefy!" Draco yelled hesitantly.</p><p>But his wand was not pointed towards the Death-Eater; It was pointed towards her.</p><p>Hermione's eyes went black and she felt herself hitting the floor for the second time.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione's back was laying against the cobblestone outside of the safe-house when she woke up.</p><p>Draco was leaning over her. She squinted and could make out three deep gashes on the side of his face, blood trickled into the space between his nose and his lips.</p><p>"What happened?" Hermione asked as Draco pulled her to her feet.</p><p>It felt as though every bone in her body had been crushed. She knew nothing was broken—it just felt like it had been. Like it was punishing her.</p><p>It was the aftershocks of using Dark Magic for the first time.</p><p>Then she suddenly remembered what had happened. Draco had stunned her so she could not fight against the Death-Eaters that had found him. Betrayal ran through Hermione like poison. She stepped towards Draco and pushed him with her hands balled into fists.</p><p>"How dare you!" She screamed, her voice seeming deranged. "How fucking dare you!"</p><p>Draco tried to grip her arms to stop her from pounding against the skin on his chest but she was too angry. She was too malicious.</p><p>"Granger, calm down!" He managed to push her away and walked up the stairs to the safe house.</p><p>But Hermione was adamant. She followed him and began to grab at his back, pulling off his hat and throwing it to the ground.</p><p>"You fucking stunned me?" She screamed, grabbing the front of his black sweater. "What are you playing at?"</p><p>Draco looked down at her through his nose. Blood covered his face but Hermione didn't care. She didn't care that he winced in discomfort when she sank her fists into her chest repeatedly.</p><p>"Are you <em>insane</em>, Malfoy?" She asked, feeling tears of anger well in her eyes. "Why the fuck would you do something like that? I thought—I thought for a moment you were with them—one of them—i thought you all of this had been a ploy and that—"</p><p>Draco grasped her wrists and spun her around so that her back slammed against the door of the house with such force she was sure something in her spine had snapped.</p><p>"Don't play this shit with me, Granger!" He yelled back at her louder than she had yelled at him.</p><p>He had her wrists pinned above her against the door so no matter how much she struggled she could not break free.</p><p>"I told you—I told you multiple times that wand is too powerful to use spells like that!" He screamed. Hermione had never seen his blue eyes so dark, so raged, so deranged. "Have you ever even used an unforgivable curse before?"</p><p>"No bu—"</p><p>Hermione tried to wiggle free but he only gripped her wrists harder and leant down to meet her eyes. His chest was pressed against Hermione so closely to the point she thought she could not breathe.</p><p>"So what possessed you to think using a Cruciatus Curse would be acceptable with a wand you can barely fucking control!" He seethed.</p><p>Blood spat from his mouth and landed on Hermione's face.</p><p>"I was trying to keep us alive, Malfoy!"</p><p>"Alive? Fucking <em>alive</em>? Do you even know what happened to that cafe because of the horrors you unleashed from that wand?" His nails dug into her skin so hard she thought her wrists might break. "It's in pieces—blown to absolute fucking pieces! Do you know how long it took me to make it look like something other than Dark Magic did that? Do you?"</p><p>Hermione gulped as the anger from her body began to dissolve. She tried to not let guilt overtake it.</p><p>"I stunned you because I thought you'd stand up and cast a fucking Killing Curse!" He dropped her wrists but grabbed the sides of her face instead. "You and everyone else in that room would have been dead!"</p><p>His hands lingered on her face for a moment before one dropped down to wrap around the base of her neck lightly.</p><p>Her mind rushed to the time he had wrapped his palm against her throat what felt like months ago.</p><p>"If you had cast a Killing Curse you would never be the same person." His thumb ran over her throat like he was trying to memorise the curves in her skin.</p><p>His face was still flooded with anger and hatred but the folds in his eyes had loosened and he licked across his bottom lip to rid some of the blood that had dried in the cracks of his lips.</p><p>He gulped as his grip on her throat tightened slightly. "You don't ever come back from a killing curse—the magic floods your body until you turn putrid."</p><p>Hermione felt like she could not breathe. She couldn't decide if that was from the way his red-stained fingers melted into the folds of her neck or the afterthoughts of using Dark Magic.</p><p>A bitter mixture of both.</p><p>"L—Let go of me." She tried to break free but he pulled her from the door by her throat before slamming her against it again.</p><p>"I want to make one thing very fucking clear, Mudblood." His hand that wasn't wrapped around her neck fell into her hair by her ear. "Try something like that again and you can go fight by yourself."</p><p>He leant down to whisper into her mouth.</p><p>"See how far casting spells like that with a wand you can't control works out for you."</p><p>He let go of her and laughed bitterly as her legs gave way and she sunk to the floor beside the front door.</p><p>Hermione was sure she stayed on the floor for hours. Wrapped into a ball shivering beneath the chill of the winter air.</p><p>Her mind began to torment her.</p><p>She had watched someone scream in agony under an Unforgivable Curse she had cast.</p><p>And she had enjoyed it.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Seventeen.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dark Magic wormed its way inside Hermione's bloodstream for over a week with no mercy.</p><p>She woke every few hours for eight days with hot tears on her face and goosebumps running down her spine. She believed it felt like the equivalent of being burnt by flames while sitting inside a pool of ice at the same time.</p><p>She would scream and wake up to be sick for an hour straight. Her fingers would twitch unconsciously and her body would curl against the plush of the velvet sofa for hours on end just to feel something comforting. To feel something warm and plush and solid.</p><p>Draco sat with her.</p><p>He didn't speak much— but he sat there. Watching silently as she screamed due to the pain, feeling as though her bones were trying to escape from the confinements of her flesh.</p><p>He sat there when she cried.</p><p>He sat there when she shivered and sobbed and told him to get out. When she told him to leave. When she told him to never come back. When she told him she despised him and his family and all the horrid things they did.</p><p>He still sat there.</p><p>He still sat there, curled inside of the armchair wearing his black silk pyjamas and silently reading his book by Emily Brontë.</p><p>Only once did he speak.</p><p>"Dark Magic will ruin you for a week or so as it searches for a spot inside of you to live inside. I told you. I told you not to do it."</p><p>Hermione did not respond. Instead, a scream ripped from her throat when the bottom of her heart felt like it was torn in two and then stapled back together in just a few seconds. The Dark Magic must have decided to live there.</p><p>It must have decided to fester inside of her heart.</p><p>After a while—it somewhat stopped.</p><p>The pain and the festering stopped, but the Dark Magic was still there. It sat inside of her like an extra part of flesh, like an extra part of her soul.</p><p>Hermione somehow—did not care.</p><p>When she tried to feel guilty, she couldn't. When she thought how Harry, Ron, Ginny and the others would react, she did not feel guilty. She felt sad and benevolent, but she did not feel guilty.</p><p>Every time she tried to feel guilty she could only see Regulus Black standing before her whispering; <em>A time will come where the choice between living and dying stands with that wand.</em></p><p>Her brain told her that it was necessary for her to grow. It was needed for her power as a Witch to develop. To win the war.</p><p>Because the War could not be won by love and warmth. It would be won with violence and power.</p><p>Hermione did not care when Draco tormented her for it once she recovered.</p><p>"Don't try anything like that again," Draco said, taking a sip of his drink on the dining room table. </p><p>"Why not?" Hermione quirked back, pulling a foot onto her chair to rest her chin against her knee. "Regulus told me to continue what I feel is necessary—at that moment I did what I had to do to protect myself."</p><p>Draco snorted and closed his book so harshly the sound of the pages hitting together echoed across the dusty kitchen.</p><p>"You do realise if I hadn't stunned you, you could have died?" Draco quirked a brow. "That wand did so much damage, Granger—I'm surprised it didn't smash your bones like dust."</p><p>Hermione swallowed dryly.</p><p>"W—who was it, anyway?" Hermione tried to keep her voice steady. "The two men, who were they? I can't remember their faces."</p><p>"You don't even know who you crucioed?" Draco shot back, a dangerous amount of toxin ridden inside of his voice. "What's gotten into you, Granger? The Mudblood I remember from school wouldn't have even set a stupefy spell on a spider—in the space of time since we've come here you've broken my back, split my nose and used an unforgivable curse. What changed?"</p><p>Hermione squints at him while trying to ignore how her fingers twitched absentmindedly on the table.</p><p>"I guess Dark Magic can radiate from one person to another."</p><p>Draco cocked his chin in the air and Hermione could see his cheek dip in the spot he was biting it from the inside.</p><p>"Just because I'm ridden with Dark Magic doesn't mean you need to be."</p><p>Hermione scoffed and pushed her half-eaten plate of toast away from her.</p><p>"I'm not ridden with Dark Magic, Malfoy." She shook her head. "I used one spell, it's not going to kill me."</p><p>Draco's fist landed against the table with such force his glass of water fell on its side and rolled from the table and smashed on the floor.</p><p>"How many fucking times! Are you stupid? Are you actually <em>stupid</em>?"</p><p>Venom ran from his tongue in the same way a serpent hisses before it strikes.</p><p>"I hate you, I despise you, Granger—" Draco looked at her through the length of his nose with such rage Hermione thought he was trying to project flames onto her. "But you're the <em>last</em> person that needs to become inflicted with Dark Magic. Everyone knows you're one of the most powerful witches of our age. You and that wand could already kill someone with a stupefy spell if you tried hard enough, let alone with Unforgivables curses. I already told you—you blew that cafe to fucking <em>pieces</em> without even trying."</p><p>Hermione sucked a breath of air in through her nose and ignored his ramble of insults.</p><p>"So. Who was it then, Your aunt? Theo?" Part of Hermione really really really hoped it was not Theodore Nott.</p><p>Maybe then she would feel guilty. For some unknown reason. She would feel guilty for hurting a classmate.</p><p>Draco was an exception.</p><p>"One was Antonin Dolohov." Draco seemed to look dizzy for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued to speak. "The other, I am not sure. I've never seen him before. He can't be that brilliant."</p><p>"And what happened afterwards? Did they escape?" Hermione's growing anger had seemed to fizzle into curiosity. "Or...did you—"</p><p>"—I didn't kill them if that's what you're implying." Draco almost seemed offended at her accusation. "Your unforgivable knocked Dolohov out from pain. I stunned the other after you knocked out and Oblivated the events from their memories."</p><p>Hermione's mouth parted to an 'O'.</p><p>"And the barista? Onlookers?" Hermione felt herself started to panic with the worry they would be caught by the ministry for using such powerful magic in Muggle presence.</p><p>"I dealt with it." Draco said casually.</p><p>She went to press on but Draco held a hand in the air which quickly caught the words in her throat and she swallowed them with bitter distaste.</p><p>Hermione knew not to ask anymore questions regarding that night. Draco already seemed on the edge.</p><p>"I do have one thing that's been troubling me, Malfoy." Hermione spoke carefully. "About your Aunt."</p><p>"Bellatrix." Draco corrected her, almost as if he didn't want to be associated with her by his bloodline.</p><p>He had always boasted about sharing blood with Bellatrix Lestrange before now.</p><p>"About Bellatrix." Hermione nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. "She knew we were together, she saw us flee the hotel together, why—why didn't I appear in the Daily Prophet alongside you?"</p><p>Draco frowned and cocked his head to the side, the sunlight caught the side of his cheek and dissolved through his eyes the same way the sun reflected against the ripples in the ocean.</p><p>"It only mentioned <em>Theo</em> searching for you, like he was the one set out to find you. So why was it Bellatrix that was there at the hotel? Did she—Did she not inform Voldemort that we were together?" Hermione spoke, pulling her fingers into fists to stop them from twitching. "I don't understand."</p><p>Draco sucked his teeth before thinking for a moment.</p><p>"Bellatrix will do anything for the Dark Lord's loyalty and respect." Draco mused. "She probably set out to find me to take him to him for a reward by her own accord—then she realised when she saw you there as well that she could take you back with me as a shock factor."</p><p>Hermione felt herself pale.</p><p>"She most likely refrained from exposing her knowledge of us being together so that if she brought us both back together, he wouldn't have been expecting it and she'd make it a big spectacle of how she caught the Mudblood and the family traitor." Draco continued, crossing his arms on the table. "Dolohov I can't explain, he probably didn't know it was you. He most likely doesn't know what you look like and your face was mostly hidden."</p><p>Hermione nodded. Her understanding on Bellatrix was rather vast—her and Ron had spent hours at the Burrow researching her and other loyal servants to the Dark Lord during the summer before Ron and Harry left. Hermione knew what she was capable of and the lengths she would go to, to satisfy her master.</p><p>Draco's words were truthful, but Hermione's mind still pondered with worries and questions and insufferable thoughts.</p><p>"How did they find us—<em>you</em>." Hermione rose a brow subconsciously and stared as Draco ran a hand through his snowy hair. "At the hotel, at the field, at the cafe, how did they find us?"</p><p>Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes before standing and crossing the kitchen. He used his wand to discard of the broken glass on floor before pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.</p><p>"Have you forgotten whats burnt into my forearm, Granger?" Draco quirked a brow at her as he blew smoke into the room. The light from the window was falling against his skin so vividly now that the sunset had turned it a hot red. "The Dark Lord can track its servants and call them to him when he sands and when he pleases. Other Death Eaters can track one another too."</p><p>Draco bit his bottom lip like he instantly regretted saying what he said, because Hermione rose from her chair to lean against the kitchen counter to stare at him.</p><p>This position of bodies happened often—Draco smoking at the window, Hermione watching him from the kitchen counter.</p><p>Like an unwritten rule after breakfast.</p><p>"Why did you not tell me that before?" Hermione scoffed. "You called me an idiot, but you're literally being traced by Death Eaters yet you continue to run? How far can you really get?"</p><p>Hermione felt furious. He had put both of their lives on the line by even stepping one foot out of the safe house. She felt even more furious when he shrugged with a cigarette hanging from his lips. Like he didn't care.</p><p>"Where do you think I've been going every-time I leave this place alone, Granger?" He had playful annoyance hidden behind his tone.</p><p>Keeping up with his mood changes was getting more and more frustrating every day.</p><p>He was so unreadable.</p><p>Like a dragon, one minute so passive, the next violent and on the hunt for something to burn with his words.</p><p>Then again, Hermione had always been told; <em>Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus.</em></p><p>Never tickle a sleeping Dragon.</p><p>Draco was that dragon.</p><p>One moment, he made stupid jokes and held sarcasm in his tone, then one comment would rid him with anger and he'd be wrapping his hand around her throat and calling her a dirty Mudblood.</p><p>"What do you mean?" Hermione quirked back, growing more and more annoyed with his attitude.</p><p>Then Hermione thought for a moment. About the house on the hill that looked like a chess-nook. She thought about how when Draco would come home he'd be clutching his forearm in pain.</p><p>Whoever his friend was, they must be using magic on his Dark Mark.</p><p>"Your friend can stop the trace?" Hermione asked, turning her head to the side and accidentally letting her eyes fall into Draco's which continued to burn in the sunrise.</p><p>The corners of Draco's mouth twitched with something unknown as he brought the cigarette up to his lips.</p><p>In that moment Hermione thought he looked like the devil.</p><p>His skin red from the sun, ruby and orange swirling in his eyes. He was breathing smoke, falling into rings around his face.</p><p>A Devilish Dragon. Hermione wanted to scoff at the comparison.</p><p>"Somewhat. As best as he can." Draco said, Hermione felt uncomfortable at the way his eyes had started to trail across her body. "That's why they found us a few times—i'll tell him to be more thorough next time."</p><p>Hermione's voice box was threatening to break in anger but she bit her tongue to stop herself from yelling.</p><p>"You couldn't have just told me that before?" She crossed her arms and dug her nails into her forearm to control her anger. "Was it so hard to say that's where you were going? This whole time i thought—"</p><p>"—That i was going back to the Dark Army and reporting to them about you?" Draco scoffed. "I told you, Granger, I wouldn't waste my time on a Mudblood even if Voldemort <em>paid</em> me to do it."</p><p>He flicked the butt of his cigarette out of the window without letting his eyes leave Hermione's face. They were searching her, roaming up and down her body like he was withholding something inside of his chest.</p><p>Part of her wanted to tear it out from him and burn it with fire.</p><p>He stalked towards her, wiping his bottom lip with his thumb.</p><p>"You—You're very confusing, Granger." He said, a mere few inches from her face. "Very confusing."</p><p>Hermione glanced up at him.</p><p>Why did her heartbeat spring? Why did she falter beneath his stare? She knew he was provoking her. He did this every-time. An unspoken cycle.</p><p>A cigarette followed by provoking the Mudblood. That was Draco's daily morning routine.</p><p>Hermione tore her eyes to the floor and cleared her throat like it was painful to speak.</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>She could feel Draco tense in-front of her.</p><p>"Doesn't matter." The venom was back in his voice, just slightly. Merely seeping through the cracks in his words. "Anyway, we should practice controlling your wand again tomorrow. It's been a while."</p><p>He brought his hand up to touch the side of her face, for a moment he let his fingers linger but they twitched against her skin and he tapped her cheek in a patronising demeanor.</p><p>He walked upstairs without another word but whatever room he had entered's door slammed so loud the entire house shook.</p><p>She had tickled the sleeping Dragon.</p><p>—</p><p>Blood spilled against the reminiscence of snow that lingered on the grass.</p><p>They had chosen a new place to practice containing the power within Regulus', <em>Hermione's</em>, new wand. They had been caught in the last location by a faltering Pansy Parkinson.</p><p>Draco had apparated them to Hatfield, a small town an hour away from London. They had spent an hour putting up protective wards before they began to throw spells at each-other. Draco was adamant that his friend had helped contain the trace within the Dark Mark and they wouldn't be found.</p><p>Hermione couldn't trust him and put the wards up herself while he grunted behind her.</p><p>Now, they were dueling.</p><p>And Draco wasn't being merciful.</p><p>He had seemed to have forgotten what the intent of this trip had been—learn how to control the power within Hermione's wand. Not <em>fighting</em>. Not screaming out spells and yelling and causing blood to flood from each other's fingers.</p><p>It seemed like he was trying to project built-up tension onto her. To rid it from his soul.</p><p>An attempt to prove that he still hated her.</p><p>Not that she had forgotten that he found her putrid, he had made it clear more than once.</p><p>Hermione had to focus, she had to <em>really</em> focus, she had to dig inside of her soul and picture all the happy memories she had inside of her brain to keep the outcomes of her magic to a healthy minimum.</p><p>It had been working.</p><p>Almost like the Dark Magic she had used in the cafe had changed her outlook on spells for the better.</p><p>Black ink-like smoke erupted from Hermione's wand every-time she cast a spell-like it was its default appearance. And the wand only threw her back onto the wet grass three times so far.</p><p>But Draco was acting like it wasn't enough.</p><p>He was shooting stunners at her left right and centre, dodging her spells and bending his knees to jump out of the way every-time she pointed her wand towards him.</p><p><em>Provoking</em>. Almost trying to <em>make</em> her loose her cool.</p><p>When Draco hit her in the face with the same jinx she had cast on him weeks ago, she lost it.</p><p>Her eyesight blurred as three bats flew into the sky from her nostrils but she pursed her lips together and dug her heels into the grass.</p><p>"Really funny, Malfoy." She twisted her neck to glare at him from where he stood by a small stream on the edge of the open field.</p><p>Her wand-hand shot out to throw a spell at him, one that she shouldn't be casting, one that would make smoke and fire and venom erupt from the tip of her wand. Another Unforgivable. She decided against it. Instead, she bit the inside of her lip and closed her eyes to avoid his smug smile.</p><p>Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.</p><p>She thought about having dinner at the Burrow, surrounded by the warmth of family and Molly's great cooking. Chicken and chips and gravy. Chocolate cake and dozens of sweets made by The Twins.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>She thought about when she aced her sixth-year exams with flying colours, earning an offer to be head girl in the future.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>She dug her fingernails into her palms and thought about when she first saw her Otter patronus. Nothing. She tried to let her brain swarm with memories of Ginny, Harry, Ron. Of her parents, her family, her cousins and her ballet classes she took as a child.</p><p>Nothing. Nothing. <em>Nothing</em>.</p><p>The power from the wand still burned in her hand. It still possessed her with a callous attitude and it felt as if she could blow up the city by casting a expelliarmus spell.</p><p>She pulled her arm back up to point towards Malfoy who stood with his arms crossed. He was poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue as his black hair rippled in the wind.</p><p>The memories weren't working. The happy thoughts weren't working.</p><p>She let her mind wander to something else. <em>Someone</em> else.</p><p>"expelliarmus!" Hermione yelled, her throat felt as it was contracting but the spell flew from her wand with a subtle gust of black smoke and pulled Draco's wand from his hand across the stretch of the field for her to catch.</p><p>His wand stung her palm. With weakness. She had forgotten how a wand that wasn't made with Basilisk Fang felt. How flimsy and unsteady it felt in her grip.</p><p>"Very good, Mudblood." Draco clapped slowly, stalking over to her. "<em>Almost</em> as good as Potter when he casts an expelliarmus spell."</p><p>Hermione's vision was still slightly blurry. From the jinx or the confusion about where her mind had travelled she was not sure.</p><p>She gulped and avoided his gaze as he stopped in front of her.</p><p>Hermione cleared her throat and glanced up at him. His expression was unreadable, ridden slightly with embarrassment and annoyance but something playful too.</p><p>Draco even looked a little proud—like he was glad Hermione was starting to figure out how to control the competency of the wand.</p><p>"What happy memory did you think of then? You looked ready to blow my head off for that Jinx I threw at you seconds before." He asked.</p><p>"About Harry and Ron." She said, glancing away from him and letting her eyes focus on a white-stained leaf that was falling from a tree.</p><p>A lie. She was lying.</p><p>Hermione had thought about when Malfoy sat in the armchair while she screamed and cried for a week in pain. She thought about how he sat there. How he just sat there. How he didn't ridicule her and laugh and act vicious. How he just <em>sat</em> there. How he observed her. How he silently heated the fire for her when she was shivering and how he had placed a glass of water on the coffee table for when she finished screaming. </p><p>How he didn't leave her to struggle alone. How he silently told her that he understood what she was going through.</p><p>Draco scoffed and closed his palm around Hermione's fist and slowly, <em>painfully</em> slowly, pulled his wand from her grip to slide back into his hand. She had to breathe through her nose to not focus on how tough and scarred but how soft they felt.</p><p>"How can Harry and Ron be a happy memory?" He rolled his eyes, somehow inching even closer to her. His chest almost pressed against her own. "I think I'd puke if i had to see that Ginger cunt every-time i cast a spell."</p><p>"Ron is nice—You don't have to be horrid." Hermione gulped. "You don't have to hate him for no reason."</p><p>Draco chuckled under his breath. Hermione smelt pine falling against the skin on her face.</p><p>"He's nice?" He quirked a brow. "What nice person would leave the smartest member of his Trio back at Hogwarts to search for Horcruxes without her?"</p><p>Hermione balled her hands into fists. She hated that he was right. She hated that she agreed with him.</p><p>"I'm sure Harry and Ron had their reasons for leaving me to go back to Hogwarts." Hermione jutted her chin out and looked up at him. "Besides, if they had asked me to go with them, I would have never have found Regulus' creation."</p><p>Hermione thought about all of the things she would have missed if she had decided to stay at Hogwarts. Or if Harry and Ron hadn't forbidden her from joining them. She would have never went to the wonky hotel and discovered that Shunpike was a Death-Eater. She would have never went to Exmouth and met Graham. He also would have never died. She would have never moved into Narcissa Malfoy's safe-house. She would have never found Regulus Black's wand.</p><p>She would have never grown to know Draco Malfoy.</p><p>Even if it wasn't a good thing.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione had believed the pain from using Dark Magic was over.</p><p>Yet it crept back into her soul in the form of vicious nightmares that made her throw up blood. That made her cry. Nightmares of her killing her friends. Nightmares of herself arriving back at Hogwarts and casting the killing curse at every single student that sat in the great hall.</p><p>Hermione had only just begun to dream peacefully after her last memory with Regulus on the rock. She had just started to get over the fact she had used an unforgivable. She was just starting to control her wand.</p><p>But it was taunting her. The magic was playing with her brain and trying to trick her into feeling guilt. Trying to make her regret using the cruciatus curse in the cafe.</p><p>She still felt no guilt. No regret. Every-time her brain tipped to that side—Regulus was there speaking into her ear.</p><p>
  <em>"Keep doing what you're doing."</em>
</p><p>When Hermione woke with a scream at six in the morning, her body drenched in cold sweat with pain tingling her bones, Draco stalked into the living room and glared at her as she sat upright on the sofa clutching her chest.</p><p>"Are you still having nightmares?" He asked, Hermione could not decide if she heard worry or annoyance in his voice. "Over using a cruciatus curse?"</p><p>She nodded slowly, trying to push the image of herself laughing at Ginny's rotting corpse from her brain.</p><p>Draco gulped and sat onto the arm of the sofa. Hermione could feel the cold radiating from his skin.</p><p>She had clearly woken him, his eyes were drenched with the red leftovers of sleep and his white hair was sticking up at the front.</p><p>His silk pyjamas were only buttoned half-way.</p><p>"This can't continue." He shook his head as he ran a slender hand through his hand. "I'll take you to where I go. For my Mark. He may be able to stop this."</p><p>Hermione felt herself scoffing at his words.</p><p>"And why would you do that?" She quirked a brow, turning away from him to gaze into the fire he had lit with his wand. "As you say, I'm filthy, I disgust you, my blood is putrid, you hate me. Why wouldn't you want to see me suffer?"</p><p>She heard Draco sigh beside her but refused to turn her gaze back to him. Hermione felt furious and confused. He had kept so much from her, about where he went, about his mark, about everyone. Then all of a sudden he wanted to help her? Wanted to rid her of her pain and worry?</p><p>If made her absolutely furious because she hated feeling confused.</p><p>She was meant to hate him.</p><p>She needed to him to make her hate him.</p><p>"Some of us don't like being woken up at six in the morning everyday by a Mudblood's screams." His voice was hiding something. "Get ready. I'm leaving in twenty minutes."</p><p>Hermione found herself standing ankle deep in grass looking up at the strange house on the hill.</p><p>It's black colour stood out against the vast amounts of pale green grass and bitter grey from the winter sky. It still reminded her of a chess nook. It reminded her of something and someone she couldn't put her finger on.</p><p>"He's strange. I believe you've met him. Just—just let him do what he thinks is necessary." Draco looked at her through the length of his nose before starting up the hill.</p><p>"I thought you said it was someone I trust." Hermione frowned, blocking the cold wind from her face as she followed him up the steep hill. "But you <em>believe</em> I have met him?"</p><p>Draco glanced at her while rolling his eyes before stopping at the bottom of the crooked stairs that led up to the door.</p><p>Hermione's eyes danced over the dirigible plums that were floating by the hedge on the wall.</p><p>"I believe it's a family you would trust." Draco nodded towards the door as he ascended up the stairs. "I just don't know if you've met the father. He's going to be confused when he sees you. I have not warned him of your arrival."</p><p>Hermione continued to frown as Draco's hands fell against the door.</p><p>She felt her hands shake. What if this was a trap? What if the person standing behind the door was Bellatrix Lestrange or Voldemort himself?</p><p>When the door opened, Hermione almost doubled over in relief.</p><p>White hair. Draped in beige closing and multiple necklaces.</p><p>Hippy like. Smelling like a warm fire and parchment.</p><p>She had met him before. Once—at Fleur and Bill's wedding, the day before Harry and Ron left her alone.</p><p>It was not Bellatrix Lestrange or Voldemort.</p><p>It was Xenophilius Lovegood, staring over at her with petrified eyes.</p><p>—</p><p>        </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Eighteen.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Xenophilius Lovegood stared at Hermione's with a confused expression ridden across his features as she sat down at his table.</p><p>He stared at her while handing her tea in a blue mug. He continued to stare at her while he opened a wooden cabinet and pulled out a variation of bottles and creams and instruments; one being a small knife. It had a green twinge to its blade, making it daze beneath the warm light from his chandelier that was made from shells she assumed were found on a beach.</p><p>"You are Hermione Granger." He said, his voice on the edge of sounding wavered. He reached into another cabinet above the sink and began stuffing his hands into it. "Potter's friend. The Mudblood."</p><p>She knew he meant no offense. It still stung.</p><p>"Yes, sir, we met during the wedding at the Burrow." She nodded, taking a sip of her drink and almost gagging at the taste. "I'm sorry for the sudden intrusion."</p><p>Hermione ignored the daggers that were pointing at her from Draco's eyes on the chair beside her.</p><p>Xenophilius pursed his lips into a thin line before spinning on his feet and glaring out of the window. Hermione could practically hear his brain trying to piece the information together. Working like a clog. She knew he questioned why she was in the company of Draco Malfoy.</p><p>"You smell like <em>Dark Magic</em>, child." He spoke after several seconds. Hermione could see his fingers gripping the edge of the sink. "I—i hope you haven't chosen to betray the Order and Potter."</p><p>Hermione felt herself pale.</p><p>"No!" She hadn't meant to speak so loudly. Xenophilius turned back towards her and Draco and sat opposite them. "I would never. I just-I just...it's rather hard to explain."</p><p>Xenophilius hummed and let his palm fall against the table, an unspoken gesture that seemed to fall towards Draco, because Draco was pulling off his jacket and placing a bare forearm on the table.</p><p>His Dark Mark was drenched onto his skin. Thick and black like a bruise glaring beneath the light.</p><p>"You can't blame me for asking, Miss Granger. You arrive at my house with black hair and a brittle appearance whilst smelling like the effects of bad magic?" Xenophilius spoke, keeping his voice passive as he opened an orange potion and smeared it across the mark on Draco's arm. "You also arrive in the company of Draco Malfoy. I had expected you to be with Harry Potter."</p><p>Draco did not speak. His eyes were trained carefully to every movement Xenophilius made, every twitch of his fingers, every breath he took. Draco watched.</p><p>"I understand your concerns, Mr Lovegood." Hermione tried to force more tea down with a small sip to seem polite. "I can assure you I have not joined the Dark Army."</p><p>There was a silence for several seconds.</p><p>"I am in Malfoy's company to assure <em>safety</em> for both of us."</p><p>He nodded as he took the green blade and dipped it into a small dish, coating it in a liliac cream.</p><p>She heard Draco suck a breath in through his nose moments before Xenophilius began to sink the tip of the blade into the area of pale skin beside the Dark Mark.</p><p>Hermione winced and tore her eyes away to let them land on Draco's other hand, which was gripping the base of her seat so hard his knuckles looked like they were about to break.</p><p>She desperately tried to ignore how his ankle had wrapped it's way around her own.</p><p>Because that was not usual.</p><p>Xenophilius pulled the blade out and moved it to the opposite side of the mark, whispering spells and enchantments beneath his breath.</p><p>"And is there any reason you have decided to visit my home, Miss Granger?" Xenophilius spoke over Draco's muted grunts of discomfort. "Are you also here to stop the trace?"</p><p>He seemed suspicious.</p><p>Hermione opened her mouth to speak but Draco beat her to it, almost like he was afraid of what she would say to him.</p><p>"Granger used an unforgivable curse in self-defensive a week or so ago." His fingers gripped her chair with more force and Hermione felt herself grow pale as she watched the skin around Draco's mark being stabbed repeatedly by the blade. "Her body has been struggling with it. Bad dreams mostly. We were hoping that you'd have a potion or elixir to help."</p><p>"Hm, You must be a very powerful witch, Miss Granger" Xenophilius spoke, licking his bottom lip with concentration as he dipped the blade into another mixture of cream that was blue before sinking the tip of the blade back into Draco's skin. "Dark Magic tends to fester in those it wants to contaminate the most."</p><p>"<em>Can</em> you help her or not?" Draco spoke, glaring at him through the black hair that fell over his eyes.</p><p>There was no need for him and Hermione to still have dark hair. Yet he still cast the charm every-time they left the house. An unspoken routine.</p><p>Xenophilius shot Draco a pointed glare and seemed to press the blade deeper into his skin for a moment before pulling it out completely and wiping the droplets of crimson onto a tissue. He then applied more of the orange potion which subsided most of the cuts but did not hide the red irritation on his skin.</p><p>He muttered a few spells before standing and opening up the cabinet above the sink once more.</p><p>"I have something that might help." He said, pulling out various bottles and reading over the contents before stuffing them back inside. He then found the one he needed. "I took it to subside nightmares after Pandora's death."</p><p>Pandora, Luna's mother. Hermione felt her stomach fizz with sadness at the memory of Luna explaining the contents of her mother's death a few years ago in the library.</p><p>"Where <em>is</em> Luna?" Hermione asked as Xenophilius stumbled back towards the table and dropped three vials of an electric coloured potion onto the table.</p><p>"She sound be along." He replied with a short nod.</p><p>Hermione studied him for a moment. Xenophilius was an eccentric looking man, draped in layers of beige and purple with wild eyes. His hair was the same colour as Luna's and just a few shades darker than The Malfoy's. It was the texture of Candy-floss—like it hadn't been washed in weeks.</p><p>She did not know much about Xenophilius Lovegood. She knew he was Luna's father and that they were very close following Pandora's death when Luna was just a child. But she had always taken him for a passive man, who tended to his garden and spent his free time baking and reading.—Not helping a run away death eater and providing potions to stop black magic from festering inside of Hermione's heart.</p><p>"Take three doses of this. Two today and one tomorrow afternoon. It will burn your throat and it tastes faintly like feet, but it should work. After my wife's death my brain became scrambled with nightmares and dark thoughts. This potion help contained it."</p><p>He rolled the vials across the table and Hermione eyed them suspiciously as they stopped by her blue mug.</p><p>"He's not going to poison you for fuck sakes, Granger." Draco sneered into her ear as Xenophilius turned around to daze out the window once more.</p><p>He nudged her shoulder and she put the vials into her bag carefully so they wouldn't spill.</p><p>Hermione went to open her mouth to ask how the trace was stopped by Xenophilius' use of the blade, but her words were cut short by the front door creaking open.</p><p>Hermione's heart lodged into her throat—It was Luna.</p><p>Luna stumbled in, seeming as dazed as usual, with a yellow beret on her blonde hair and a pink dress layered over stockings a white shirt. She seemed rather unfazed by the cold, but her lips were wore a faint tint of blue.</p><p>Luna sent a small glance over to the table where Hermione and Draco were sitting side by side. She smiled before looking back at the Quibbler in her hands.</p><p>"Hi Draco." Luna spoke casually, like she was more than used to his presence.</p><p>Hermione frowned.</p><p>Was she invisible? Wouldnt Luna be more shocked to see her sitting next to Draco Malfoy in her kitchen? Hermione knew she looked different, black hair, skin almost grey with anger and fatigue, hollow cheeks and cold eyes. But she was still her.</p><p>Was she really that much different?</p><p>Luna paused where she was stood and frowned, she looked back up and let her eyes flood onto Hermione's face.</p><p>"Hermione? Is that you?" Luna's voice was tentative, laced with confusion and shock.</p><p>Hermione stood from the chair, not caring that it fell back and hit the blue floorboards, because it was Luna.</p><p>It was a friend.</p><p>It was someone who didn't call her Mudblood, it was someone who didn't provoke her and confuse her.</p><p>It was someone she loved.</p><p>"Luna." Hermione was running to the door and wrapping her arms around Luna's neck with such force she nearly knocked her to the ground.</p><p>"Hermione?" Luna asked again, the ghost of her voice brushing against the curls beside Hermione's ears. "What are you doing here?"</p><p>Hermione pulled away and gripped her friends shoulders delicately.</p><p>It felt weird to have to be delicate with someone. Like she would break if she's touched her the same way she touched Draco.</p><p>But Draco was made from steel and Luna was made from satin.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione found herself sitting in the grass outside of the chess-nook house alone with Luna. Luna's house. Luna's home.</p><p>It must have been why she found it so familiar. She had never visited it before, but Luna had spilled many stories of her home and her family over lunch, in the library and in class. The house radiated Luna from top to bottom, with wonky walls and cluttered insides, overgrown hedges and colourful flowers. Luna had even gifted Hermione three Dirigible Plums last year before Christmas.Hermione felt a fool for not realising it sooner.</p><p>"You realise that you've been deemed a missing person since Professor McGonagall realised you were gone?" Luna asked, playing with her fingers on her lap. "I spoke to Ginny briefly through owl post. McGonagall is worried about you, Hermione. If i see her, shall i tell her that you are alright?"</p><p>Hermione gulped. A missing person.</p><p>Still—even at the thought of all of her friends believing she was as fickle as wind, she felt no guilt.</p><p>She was meant to leave Hogwarts. She knew that.</p><p>"You can tell them I am fine." Hermione nodded. "But Luna—you can't tell them where I am."</p><p>Luna chuckled. "I know. I'm not sure they'd appreciate knowing you left Hogwarts to accompany a Death-Eater, right?"</p><p>Hermione's lips fell into a thin line.</p><p>"How did this happen anyway, Hermione? W-what happened to you? I don't want to believe you'd ever betray the Order. Or Hogwarts. Harry and Ron."</p><p>Hermione felt herself growing sick.</p><p>So, Hermione let every secret spill between them within the half-hour they sat in the grass.</p><p>Luna was not even Hermione's closest friend. But at that moment, she <em>was</em>. She was everything. She needed to tell Luna everything. Everything about her leaving Hogwarts. Everything about the Wonky hotel and everything about the boathouse and Graham. About the names Anchor and Rose. However, she did not tell her about the wand left behind by Regulus Black.</p><p>She told Luna about her and Draco. How Draco tormented her and wrapped his hand around her throat every chance he got. How he traced the outline of her jaw with his finger while telling her she's filthy and putrid. How he undressed her with his eyes while he smoked by the window before insulting her and disappearing upstairs.</p><p>"Maybe he wants to fuck you." Luna said. Hermione almost choked at her words and she had to take several seconds to clear the bile that rose into her throat.</p><p>Luna didn't normally talk about things like that.</p><p>Hermione felt faint at the thought.</p><p>"Definitely not, Luna." Hermione shook her head, letting her brain swarm with images that made her stomach flutter. "He hates me more than anyone, why would he want to do that?"</p><p>Luna giggled and leaned back so that her head fell against the grass, it rose over her cheeks and pushed through her hair.</p><p>"I don't know. Isn't that what happens when men act like that? When they do things like that?" Luna spoke. Her voice almost got lost in the wind. "Maybe spending so much time with you made him realise that he wants to touch you, wants to kiss you, feel you. Isn't that what happens?"</p><p>Hermione flushed red.</p><p>"He hates me." She said again.</p><p>He hates you. He hates you. He hates you.</p><p>
  <em>He hates you.</em>
</p><p>Hermione shook her head so viciously her hair fell into her eyes.</p><p>"Just because he hates you doesn't mean he doesn't find you attractive." Luna added, her eyes fell against the clouds that danced in the sky. "Men are strange, I've heard. I don't think it's normal for a man to wrap their hand around your neck and push you against walls if he found you so disgusting."</p><p>Luna paused and turned her head on the ground to look at Hermione. She sent her a sad smile.</p><p>In that moment, Hermione realised she wasn't the only person who had changed.</p><p>Luna looked older. Her eyes had grown darker. Her hair had been cut to her collarbones and her lips had become plump. She had grown. She had changed. Luna seemed more confident, more clear. Like she knew what she wanted. Like she knew who she was.</p><p>War was changing everyone. Sometimes it changed people for the better.</p><p>"Draco is troubled." Luna sighed, bringing a finger up to dance a nail against Hermione's thigh. "He's hard to understand. I don't blame you for being apprehensive, Mione."</p><p>Hermione sighed and let herself fall back into the grass alongside Luna.</p><p>"How did you find Malfoy, anyway?" Hermione asked, her eyes falling on a cloud that was passing above her.</p><p>She believed it was shaped like a dragon.</p><p>"My father found him running. I'm not sure where. Brought him here and told me to take him to the hotel. I didn't know that there would be Death-Eaters there, Hermione." Luna's voice grew rather sad. "I'm so sorry."</p><p>They both paused before Luna continued.</p><p>"My father has been researching the Dark Mark for years. He finds it rather fascinating. He helps others like Draco who don't want to be controlled by the Dark Lord. We fear that the Dark Lord will catch on soon. So we have to be careful."</p><p>"Others like him?" Hermione frowned. She hadn't thought about the fact that other people would try to defy Voldemort. She had assumed most of his followers to be true.</p><p>Luna shuffled closer to Hermione on the grass. Almost like she was scared someone might overhear despite their surroundings were bare.</p><p>"Only a few. Draco being one. Then there's Adrian Pucey, he took the mark early this year and regretted it once The Dark Lord killed his father after his father failed to kill Kingsley and Moody. He's not running like Draco, but he's trying to distance the bond between himself and The Dark Lord."</p><p>Hermione felt goosebumps rising over her skin. She couldn't decide if it was the outcome of Luna's words or the cold air gushing around her. Both.</p><p>"Then Blaise." Luna spoke. Hermione's heart stopped in her chest. "He comes every once and a while, not often. He's troubled too, shattered like glass. I feel he mostly comes for company. I almost feel bad for Blais—"</p><p>"Blaise Zabini?" Hermione asked, her throat growing rather dry. She sat up on the grass to stop the dizzy feeling growing in her mind. "As in the Blaise Zabini who murdered Narcissa Malfoy?"</p><p>Luna sat up too. She wore a confused expression on her face.</p><p>"Blaise Zabini." She nodded, cocking her head to the side. Her blonde hair flew around her face like butterflies. "Blaise—he didn't kill Narcissa Malfoy. My father would have known. He refuses to help murderers."</p><p>Bile. It was rising in Hermione's stomach so fast she felt she was going to be sick.</p><p>"He—Draco believes that his mother is dead." Hermione gulped. "And that it's the outcome of actions by Blaise."</p><p>Luna scoffed out a laugh; almost like Hermione's words were insane.</p><p>"Narcissa Malfoy <em>is</em> dead." Luna nodded. "But i'm certain Blaise did not kill her. Blaise is one of the kindest yet broken people i've met. He wouldn't be capable of doing such a thing. Plus my father preforms Occlumency on Draco, Adrian and Blaise regularly to make sure they are not spies."</p><p>Before Hermione could ask anymore questions, Draco was walking towards them.</p><p>She wanted to be sick.</p><p>Hermione couldn't look at him. She couldn't let her eyes linger on his talk dark frame, with his black clothing and black hair and pale skin—like a shadow in a field of colour. Like a devil in disguise.</p><p>He stopped at their feet. Luna held her breath in and stood, whispering sarcastically, "See you later, Rose." before disappearing into her house.</p><p>"Let's go." Draco said. His expression was closed.</p><p>Hermione barely heard him. Her mind was too busy thinking. Too busy dissecting. Too busy focusing on not throwing up from the information just fed to her.</p><p>"Granger? Hurry up. Let's go" He held a hand out to help her up, still wearing a disgusted expression as he looked down at her.</p><p>She ignored his hand and stood by her own accord.</p><p>With a deep breath, she grasped his shoulder and apparated them back to Southwark without muttering a word.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione pondered for a few hours on what to do. What to say. How to say it.</p><p>How could she break news like this to Draco? He would either light her up in flames or close himself off completely. Maybe even both.</p><p>How could she tell him the details he knew of his mother's death could be false? That everything he believed was a lie? She <em>couldn't</em>. Not yet. Not when he was this angry already, not when he still despised her <em>this</em> much.</p><p>It was eating her up inside.</p><p>Blaise. His young face. She wondered how much he had changed since she last saw him as well. She wondered why Theo did not attend Xenophilius' home. Maybe Theo was truly devoted to The Dark Lord. Maybe he didn't want refuge. Maybe he was as evil as he seemed.</p><p>Her head began to pound.</p><p>Draco's words stung inside of her until she dragged herself from the sofa and to the cabinet beside the dining table where Draco was sitting silently reading his book.</p><p>
  <em>"You should get drunk Granger."</em>
</p><p>She decided he was right.</p><p>He had been vicious since they returned home. When she refused to tell him why she was 'Acting so strange', he pushed her against the hallway wall and breathed against her face. He had let his finger trail across the skin on her throat for a few moments before he tore himself and stalked into the kitchen and began to read.</p><p>He had been sat there, flexing his jaw as his eyes scanned the poetry, until the sun had set and he was sitting with nothing but light from the fireplace engulfing him.</p><p>For that, Hermione didn't glance at him as she opened the cupboard and pulled out one bottle of brown Fire-whisky. There were now four bottles. Draco liked to stock up. He drank it as if it was water.</p><p>She pulled the cork out with her teeth before sliding the bottle across the dining table. Hermione hadn't noticed Draco's eyes scanning her every movement she made until she sat opposite him and watched him gulp something in his throat.</p><p>"Finally taking my advice, Mudblood?" Draco asked, quirking up a brow before letting the pages of his book fall shut. Hermione didn't flinch at his nickname. He used it more commonly than her real name. She didn't mind. Not anymore. "Finally going to get drunk?"</p><p>She ignored him and poured the brown alcohol into her glass, he looked at her with a pointed expression and she huffed and poured some into another glass by his fist. He didn't flinch before taking it and bringing it to his lips.</p><p>Draco's eyes seemed to be locked onto Hermione's face with no mercy. Scanning her, working over her features.</p><p>Like she was a drug and he was the addict.</p><p>As if he was contemplating reaching out to grab her.</p><p>Something twisted inside of her and she took a sip of the drink to try and push it away. It stung her throat and burnt as it traveled down her throat until it fell into her bloodstream. Her mind instantly began to clear.</p><p>She drank.</p><p>And she drank.</p><p>She drank until her eyes began to blur.</p><p>She wasn't drunk—<em>tipsy</em>. Tipsy was the word that fell into her mind. Her bones had began to forget all the constraints they were constantly strangled with, her mind began to laugh and ponder at her, in the good way. She began to forget all the fucked up things that were happening in her life.</p><p>She was even enjoying Draco's company.</p><p>Even if he wasn't enjoying hers. Even if he still poured insults at her with slurred words, even if he did brush his leg against her own maliciously beneath the table.</p><p>Yet he still stumbled behind her as she moved to fall against the sofa and he fell into the armchair opposite her.</p><p>"You're following me!" Hermione pointed a finger towards him as she took another sip of her drink with her other hand before dropping the glass onto the coffee table. "Wh-Why don't you ever leave me alone, Malfoy?"</p><p>Draco pursed his lips into a thin line before biting back his words and visibly rearranging what he was going to say in his mind.</p><p>"You're interesting." Draco spoke, his words slightly sloppy. "Interesting in the most horrid way."</p><p>The tension in the room tightened like an elastic band being tugged.</p><p>Desperately waiting to be snapped.</p><p>Hermione squinted at him. His eyes were dark, glossed over with the reminiscence of alcohol. His skin was flushed, his pale cheeks glowing peach beneath the light from the fire place. He never normally went red whilst drinking.</p><p>He ran a thumb across his bottom lip before speaking again.</p><p>"When I look at you, I see a Mudblood." His voice had turned sour. "I see something I have been taught to loathe."</p><p>He gulped as Hermione scoffed. Her veins buzzed with humour—she could only laugh at his insults.</p><p>She was tentative of what he would do if she had yelled at him. If she had screamed. If she had told him she hated him.</p><p>"Yet, Yet—" He paused, letting his eyes glance across Hermione's body for a short second. "You waltz around the house like someone I <em>shouldn't</em> loath. In your pyjamas without a bra. With your shorts on after you shower. You walk past me drenched in your sickly perfume that smells like roses and wine—"</p><p>Hermione felt her throat go dry. She reached to take another sip of her drink.</p><p>"—Sometimes I have to remind myself of your disgusting blood. I have to remind myself that you are not worthy of being so powerful."</p><p>Hermione said nothing. She glared at him through tipsy eyes.</p><p>Instead of speaking. She smirked.</p><p>He growled. Viscous, like a tiger in heat.</p><p>She grew afraid of what would happen next.</p><p>Would he hex her? Would be spit at her and run upstairs to not speak to her for the rest of the night?</p><p>"And then you do <em>that</em>." He rose from the armchair and stalked towards her like she was his prey. "You challenge me. You put up a fight."</p><p>He fell beside her so closely she could smell the anguish spilling from his pores. He was hot—Warm like a furnace, burning with the steam of hatred and desire all at once.</p><p>He gazed at her.</p><p>"You hate me." Hermione nodded. Nodding felt like she was moving in slow motion—it almost made her giggle. "I hate you. Isn't that how it should be?"</p><p>Draco moved a hand up to her face, it trailed across her skin before stopping at the base of her cheek. Hermione tried to not focus on his nail digging into her cheek like her skin was putty. Or the warmth radiating from the tip of his finger. Or how her stomach bubbled with something forbidden.</p><p>"I hate you. I hate you so <em>fucking</em> much." Draco spat back, his breath falling against her lips. It tasted the same as the last time he was this close. Whisky and mint. With pine falling in the cracks of his words. "You and your friends—I despise you all."</p><p>Hermione gulped again. Her body felt as if it was screaming.</p><p>Draco's hand fell from her cheek and graced the skin of her throat. He hesitated, like he was afraid. Like he was loosing control.</p><p>But she smirked again. Her lips twinged at the corners with desperation, with tension, with challenge.</p><p>He wrapped his hand around the base of her neck so tightly she forgot how to breathe.</p><p>"Didn't I tell you to tread lightly?" He asked, pulling her neck so that her face fell closer to her own. "Don't make me do something I will regret."</p><p>Hermione blamed the alcohol in her bloodstream for decided she wanted him to regret it. To regret her. To regret everything.</p><p>She blamed the alcohol in her bloodstream for wanting him.</p><p>She wanted him.</p><p>"Just do it, <em>Anchor</em>." She mused, her words trickling out of her mouth like lava. "You always do this, you wrap your hand around me, you push me against walls. Just fucking do <em>it.</em>"</p><p>He froze. Like he wasn't expecting her to oblige. Like he was expecting to be rejected.</p><p>He almost looked scared. He looked scared until he ran a thumb across the base of her neck and she moaned so quietly she was sure he hadn't heard.</p><p>He heard.</p><p>"Say the word and I won't do it." He spoke. He had moved so close to her she felt she had been set on fire. "If you don't say the word—if you don't—"</p><p>He wanted to do it. He wanted it more than anything. She knew that. She deep down had always known that.</p><p>"Do. It."</p><p>He yanked her neck so tightly her nose hit his own. He smelt of fire now, like a dragon. It was always a fucking dragon. Draco was a fucking dragon. Not a tiger or a lion. A Dragon.</p><p>She wanted to scream almost as much as she wanted him to set her on fire.</p><p>"You're going to regret this." He spoke. She gulped down the breath of his words. "You've been drinking—just say if—"</p><p>She scoffed and squinted at him. "You've been drinking too but we're both smart enough to know this has been a long time coming."</p><p>His lips fell against her cheek. He wasn't kissing it, but his lips sat against her skin. His teeth grazed her freckles, then the base of her jaw, sinking into the space between her ear and her cheek.</p><p>"You're so filthy, Rose." He groaned, pulling her neck so hard she thought it might snap. "Why are you so fucking filthy?"</p><p>She gasped as his teeth began to graze across her cheek again, his words pressing into her skin.</p><p>"I'm going to fucking regret this." He spoke, desperately, drunkenly. "I'm going to regret doing—fuck—this—you're so filthy."</p><p>Hermione hated that it excited her.</p><p>Being called dirty. Being called filthy. Because she'd always been Hermione Granger, the perfect witch. Not ever Hermione Granger, someone exciting. Someone dirty and gained. Never something somebody <em>wanted</em>.</p><p>His lips ghosted against the edge of her mouth for a moment, before his hand dropped from her neck.</p><p>For a moment she thought he'd already cracked. That he'd already decided that she was too disgusting to have. Too disgusting to feel.</p><p>Instead, his finger laced through her hair at the back of her head, and he was slamming her mouth against his own.</p><p>Hermione felt like she was going to pass out.</p><p>His lips were rough, like the edge of a wooden table, like—she couldn't even describe it. They felt like something unknown, something disgusting yet beautiful and right.</p><p>Yet rough, they were soft, dripping with elegance and rage.</p><p>He tasted like power. He tasted like a shadow. Like a drop of black ink on white parchment.</p><p>He tasted like something she had been silently craving.</p><p>Hermione didn't flinch before letting his tongue fall between her lips, lapping up to press against the roof of her mouth.</p><p>She had fell weak against his touch. He was guiding her head with his hands that gripped her hair so tightly she thought it was being ripped out. He was kissing her with such force she thought her mouth was being torn in two.</p><p>But she fucking loved it.</p><p>He pressed her backwards, until her back fell against the velvet beneath her.</p><p>He disconnected their lips for a second. A mere second that felt like an hour. He stared down at her, like he was contemplating. Like he was questioning if he should stop. If he was already regretting kissing someone like her.</p><p>"You disgust me." He said, his words coming out staggered and breathless. "You disgust me more than I ever thought you could—so why do you taste like a drug to me?"</p><p>He delved down to kiss her again, his hand now wrapping around her neck once more as he slotted himself between her legs.</p><p>He was pressing against her in a way that made her want to scream.</p><p>She wanted to scream with how good it felt. How right it felt. How delicious he tasted.</p><p>You're tipsy.</p><p>You're tipsy. That's why you like it.</p><p>You like it because you are tipsy.</p><p>The lies Hermione was feeding herself couldn't stop her from groaning when he pulled back to tug on her bottom lip, biting down so hard she tasted iron. He quirked an eyebrow and dipped back in, playing with her tongue until he couldn't breathe.</p><p>"I hate you." He breathed, moving down to press a kiss against her neck.</p><p>Sloppy and tipsy. Yet full of desire.</p><p>"I hate—I hate you too." Hermione replied, feeling her back arching just slightly when he sank his teeth into her throat ever so slightly.</p><p>His hands had dropped to her waist, falling beneath her maroon t-shirt to sink into the skin on her hips. Pressing his nails into her. Like he was marking her. Telling her that she was his and his <em>only.</em></p><p>Marking his territory on her body.</p><p>"You're so fucking disgusting, Rose." He breathed against her neck. "But why do I want you so badly?"</p><p>Rose. Rose. Rose.</p><p>Not Granger. Not Mudblood.</p><p><em>Rose</em>.</p><p>Something personal. But not as personal as Hermione. Not as personal as Hermione. Not as personal as Hermione.</p><p>She knew he did not want to cross that path.</p><p>He knew he didn't want to make some sort of connection he would be forced to break.</p><p>His teeth dragged against her neck until they fell against her collarbone. Hermione hadn't even realised his hands had risen beneath her shirt until he was gripping her chest, running his hand over her boob and moaning at the feeling of her nipple against his palm.</p><p>"P-Please." She didn't mean to beg. She didn't mean to whimper at the feeling of his large hands roaming her body, at the feeling of his thigh pressing against her in a way that made her back arch.</p><p>You're tipsy. You're tipsy. That's why it feels so good.</p><p>It feels so good because you're tipsy.</p><p>"What, Rose?" His breath was hot against her collarbone. Breathing fire. Breathing fire onto her skin like she was going to explode. "You think i'm going to <em>fuck</em> you?"</p><p>His words were like spleen, branding against her neck.</p><p>Hermione felt his hand drop from her chest, moving painfully slow down to her waist, where he dragged his nails over his skin before pressing his palm against her pubic bone and smirking when she squirmed.</p><p>"You think i'd fuck someone as putrid as <em>you</em>?"</p><p>He had pulled away from her neck, lifting his head to gaze down at her. His eyes were swarming with the reflection of the fireplace. Reminding her of how vicious and cruel he was.</p><p>Hermione did not care.</p><p>He was cruel.</p><p>He had always been cruel.</p><p>She had always liked that without really realising it.</p><p>"D—Anchor-" She played back at him. He would call her Rose to not build connection. She would call him Anchor.</p><p>A bitter reminder of what they once were, what they once felt towards each-other. Pure valiance. Distance. So close but so far away in the boathouse.</p><p>But now, with Draco's hand trailing beneath her trousers and pressing against her clit beneath her underwear—they were not distant.</p><p>"You think i'd fuck a Mudblood?" He was insulting her. Trying to make her hate him. But his fingers still continued to press harder and harder against her until she began to moan.</p><p>Her legs began to twitch.</p><p>She realised he <em>wanted</em> her to beg.</p><p>"Please." Her words fumbled. Her head was dizzy.</p><p>He shifted to pull her trousers down and her underwear across, only once glancing down at her nakedness with a smirk playing at his lips before he dipped his head back to her throat, sucking on her skin like it was heroin.</p><p>He pressed a finger against her clit and began to move it in circles.</p><p>Hermione thought she might pass out.</p><p>She brought her hand up to grasp the back of his hair and tugged on it with desperation, letting her fingers lap within the waves at the base of his neck, tugging and tugging until he grunted and dipped a finger inside of her.</p><p>His finger was cold, burning ice. Her body froze as he added another.</p><p>She felt his lips twitching into the ghost of a smirk against her throat.</p><p>"Fuck—fuck—fuck."</p><p>Did this always feel so good for everybody? Or was it just Draco's long fingers curling inside of her and pressing against a spot she didn't know existed? Is that why it felt so good? Because it was someone she was meant to hate?</p><p>Someone that should be forbidden.</p><p>"Look at that." Draco chuckled, pulling out his fingers with valiance only to roughly shove them back in to listen to her quiet screams. "A Mudblood withering at the hands of someone like me."</p><p>He bit down on her neck as he pressed his thumb against her clit as his fingers moved inside of her with such force she felt like she was going to fall into two broken pieces.</p><p>He bit her neck. He bit her neck. He bit her neck so hard she thought his teeth had broken skin. But she couldn't focus on the thought of her blood falling into his mouth, she could only focus on the feeling of his slender fingers moving inside of her as his free hand came up to twist her nipples through her shirt.</p><p>Hermione's stomach pulsated and bubbled at the feeling that was rising inside of her.</p><p>For she couldn't fathom what was happening. That Draco Malfoy—the person from school she had always disliked, the person who had betrayed her second home, the person who had tried to murder her headmaster—was using his fingers to fuck her into oblivion.</p><p>She didn't mean to come.</p><p>She didn't mean to moan and shake as he circled his thumb against her.</p><p>But she did.</p><p>He paused, for a moment, pulling out and gently tapping her sensitive area with the tips of his fingers. He chuckled.</p><p>He sat up, looking down at her as if he might go into shock any moment.</p><p>He was tipsy, Hermione.</p><p>He was tipsy. That's why he enjoyed it.</p><p>He enjoyed it because he was tipsy.</p><p>She gawked, feeling her cheeks heat to red with shock and embarrassment as the feeling of need drifted from her skin along with her orgasm.</p><p>And she gawked as he brought his fingers to his mouth and let them delve inside of his lips. His lips were red and swollen and pulsating with blood from the viscously in which he had kissed her.</p><p>"For someone so filthy, you taste so enticing." He said, letting his eyes lock onto her own.</p><p>A dragon. He was a dragon. Hermione reminded herself as the red light of the fire engulfed his vicarious expression.</p><p>A dragon who had just engulfed her in flames.</p><p>He paused. She paused. He scoffed, dropping his head against his chest and shook his head.</p><p>"I told you to tread lightly." He said, repeating the words he had spoken before he kissed her.</p><p>She watched his fingers twitched at his side. His middle and index finger glistened against the firelight. She felt herself pale and tore her gaze away.</p><p>He shuffled and moved from the sofa to stand at the side of it. Draco stared at her, his face became masked. Unreadable like always.</p><p>"I told you to tread fucking lightly." He spat. Hermione could not read the tone behind his words. "Before I did something I would regret."</p><p>He turned on his heels and stumbled away from the living room. She saw him fall against the door frame and regain balance before disappearing.</p><p>She heard a door slam upstairs.</p><p>Hermione could not move. She didn't want to move. She couldn't. Her body was frozen. Shock. But no regret. No guilt. Nothing but shock.</p><p>She had come at the hands of a Death-Eater.</p><p>And she fucking loved it.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Ninteen.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>She shouldn't have kissed him.</p><p>She shouldn't have let him touch her.</p><p>She shouldn't have allowed him to make her come.</p><p>Hermione nearly threw up when she woke. She had tried to convince herself it had been a dream—a <em>nightmare</em>. She tried to believe that it did not happen, that she had imagined everything because she was drunk. Though, her eyes fell to the half-empty bottle of Fire-Whisky that lay ajar on the dining table. She knew it had not been a dream.</p><p>The taste of his tongue still lingered in her mouth. The ghost of his fingers still remained in the space between her legs.</p><p>No. No. <em>No</em>. It was a mistake.</p><p>Hermione cursed herself for not believing her own thoughts. She pressed the balls of her palms against her eyelids and tried to drill the ideology into her head.</p><p>Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. <em>Mistake</em>.</p><p>But if it had been a mistake, why did it feel so <em>good</em>?</p><p>Ruefully, she had just ruined nearly everything. If anybody found out— Nobody would trust her anymore. Not Harry, not Ron, not Ginny or Seamus or even Neville.</p><p>Hermione had kissed the enemy. Hermione had kissed a servant who had been more than loyal to the Dark Lord. At least Loyal enough to hold a wand in the face of Albus Dumbledore at the age of sixteen.</p><p>She stood against all of those things. She stood against the Dark Army, against Voldemort, against Death-Eaters and all their brittle ideological ideas on "<em>Muggles</em>" and "<em>Half-Breed's"</em> and "<em>Mudbloods</em>."</p><p>Hermione sat on the edge of the sofa and tried not to cry.</p><p>
  <em>"She's against it on principle, but life isn't—"</em>
</p><p>Hermione felt herself growing pale as the quote written by Margaret Atwood ran through her head like an electric shock. It was from the book she had brought in Greenwich. The book she had brought while Draco had lingered by her side.</p><p>She hated that she understood it.</p><p>She was against everything Draco Malfoy had ever stood for. Yet, life had still allowed her to become shacked up with him in this fucking safe-house and life had allowed her to kiss him like he was the only person in the world.</p><p>She was against kissing Draco Malfoy but life wasn't.</p><p>For a moment. Hermione considered leaving. Maybe it was a sign it was too much. She and Draco had already been treading on uncertain waters by staying in each other's occupancy—maybe this was the delve to tell her it was <em>too much</em>.</p><p>Yet, Hermione didn't want to leave.</p><p>It hit her. She did not want to leave. Because for the first time in what felt like years—she felt safe. Safe sleeping by the fire on the sofa in the house, safe with her wand, safe with...Draco's company.</p><p>Hermione still hated him. But she liked that she hated him. She liked that she hated everything he was.</p><p>Because he was Draco.</p><p>And Draco was there.</p><p>He was there when she ate breakfast. He was there when she had nightmares. He was there even when she didn't want him to be—In his black sweatshirt or his silk pyjamas, with his white hair and then his black hair and his brittle skin and marble features.</p><p>He was there wrapping his palm around her neck. He was there pressing his nails into her skin. He was there kissing her neck and biting her throat like she was made of corundum.</p><p>Her head became dizzy thinking about it. So she stood and ran both her hands through her hair before deciding the best thing she could do was to wash and scrub away every drunken trace of his touch from her skin.</p><p>Her feet stumbled as she lifted herself into the hallway. She could still feel his fingers curling inside of her, pushing against her walls. She could still hear his subtle grunts as he pressed himself against her and she could feel the burn on her back from where she had roused against the velvet sofa.</p><p>She breathed through her nose and started up the stairs, gripping the banister so hard her knuckles threatened to snap.</p><p>
  <em>"Why are you so fucking filthy?"</em>
</p><p>She pressed her other hand against her sternum and tried to push his voice out of her head. It was taunting her. Trying to make her feel guilty. Trying to make her regret letting his mouth fall against the plush of her skin.</p><p>Hermione did not regret it. She did not feel guilty. Hermione believed that it was the effects of Dark Magic festering in her heart and stopping guilt from falling through her body.</p><p>She stepped into the shower and scrubbed at her skin so hard it nearly bled.</p><p>Her waist had small bruises in the shape of crescent moons. </p><p>She scrubbed at them but they did not disappear. His nails. His nails. His nails. They dug so far into her skin when she moaned. When she moaned for <em>him</em>. When she moaned because his nails digging into her waist felt so euphoric.</p><p>
  <em>"You're so fucking disgusting, Rose—but why do I want you so badly?"</em>
</p><p>Hermione shuddered and pressed her hand against her chest to calm her breathing.</p><p>It took her a second to recollect her thoughts. His voice was stabbing at her brain. <em>I want you so badly. I want you so badly.</em></p><p>Why did Draco want her? Why did he find her so vile and horrid but allow himself to touch her skin like she was made of silk?</p><p>Because she was forbidden territory. A Mudblood. Something new and exciting and putrid all at once.</p><p>Hermione knew he had called her Rose so that the line between personal and impersonal wouldn't have been crossed. She knew that he didn't call her Granger or Hermione so he could pretend that this never happened.</p><p>He could pretend she never let him touch her.</p><p>Yet, the thought of him calling her Rose excited her. It mused her. It made her curl her feet against the slack of the shower floor as she tried to not become...roused.</p><p>She stepped out of the shower and used a brown towel to dry her hair. She caught her reflection in the mirror as she scrunched the towel in her hair, trying to dry it as best as she could because she had left her wand in the living room.</p><p>Her lips were bruised. The left side almost purple. So plump she almost didn't think it was possible. And that was nothing compared to her neck. He had bitten her. Her throat coaxed a dark purple bruise the shape of a heart by her collarbone.</p><p>He had marked his territory and she did not how to feel about that.</p><p>Because looking at her bruises and reminding herself of the events that occurred the night before only made her want to push Draco against a wall and sink her teeth into his lip. That was not usual. It was not normal.</p><p>He was Draco Malfoy—why was she allowing herself to be recked by him?</p><p>
  <em>"You think i'd fuck someone as putrid as you?"</em>
</p><p>Too far. Too much tormenting.</p><p>No. <em>No</em>. Hermione took a deep breath and composed herself. It was not that important. There were more important things in the world than the fact she had kissed Draco Malfoy. Harry and Ron. Ginny, Seamus, Neville, Dean, Luna. The War.</p><p>Hermione looked over at her clothes that lay on a pile on the floor. She wanted to punch herself—she had let the water seep from the shower curtain and drench her clothes. She also had left her wand on the coffee table.</p><p>She sucked her teeth and wrapped the towel around her body. Her hair fell into wet curls around her neck and stuck to the skin on her nape.</p><p>In that moment, looking in the mirror, Hermione nearly laughed. Her skin looked white beneath the light above her, tainted with small pearl droplets of water. Not to mention the bruises, on her lips and her neck and her collarbone.</p><p>"Pathetic." She whispered at herself, turning from the mirror and heading into the hallway.</p><p>It was still so cold. With her wet hair seeping cold water down the slack of her shoulders, Hermione felt goosebumps rising over her skin, coating her in shreds.</p><p>As she walked, the door belonging to Narcissa's old bedroom swung open and hit the wall with a crack.</p><p>Draco walked out, not noticing Hermione for a moment as he headed sleepily to the bathroom, slack in his silk pyjamas with messy hair.</p><p>He stopped in his place and stared at her once he realised her presence. She saw his eyes linger for a moment. Hermione stood frozen, simply watching his eyes twitch as he scored down her almost naked body.</p><p>The silver in his eye twinged as they landed on her neck and Hermione impulsively pulled her hands up to shade the bruises on her skin.</p><p>She felt embarrassed even though she shouldn't. It was his doing. <em>His</em>.</p><p>Draco gulped and tore his eyes away to stare at the wall.</p><p>Hermione noticed that his fingers had balled onto fists by his side.</p><p>"Move, Granger." He spoke, not an inch of emotion in his voice. "You're in my way."</p><p>Back to Granger. Not Rose. Granger.</p><p>Hermione moved and let him stalk past her, he scoffed as his shoulder brushed her naked skin. He slammed the bathroom door and she heard the shower turning on.</p><p>She stood brazen for a moment, pressing her palm against her sternum before remembering what she was meant to be doing, and she quickly descended down the stairs and used her wand to dry every inch of her body and to rid the bruises on her skin.</p><p>The bruises were just another reminder of how good his fingers and mouth had felt against her.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione took the last dose of the potion given to her by Xenophilius sitting at the dining table before Draco strode into the kitchen.</p><p>He was fully dressed, dawning a dark brown knitted jumper paired with black jeans and combat boots. Hermione gulped and tore her gaze away to look down at her fingers.</p><p>"We need to practice your wand control again." Draco said, walking behind her and fiddling with something inside of a kitchen compartment.</p><p>Hermione wanted to scoff. Of course, he was pretending that nothing happened. </p><p>Classic Draco—doing something he didn't want to own up to doing. First was hiding from the fact he tried to kill Dumbledore. He had ran and hid for no one to see him since. And now, it was fucking Hermione with his fingers while he sucked across her neck. Hermione had expected him to do this—to act like he didn't care. But Hermione hadn't expected it to annoy her so much.</p><p>"Today?" Hermione asked, quirking an eyebrow for only her to see.</p><p>"Got something better to do?" He shot back, voice ridden with venom. "Ah, let me guess, sit by the fire wallowing away again?"</p><p>Hermione bit her lip and turned around on the chair to glare at him. He wasn't looking her way, he was still digging through a messy draw in the kitchen.</p><p>He pulled out a pencil and stuffed it in his pocket before turning towards her. His expression was closed.</p><p>Hermione thought for a moment.</p><p>"Do you think we could visit Xenophilius again today?" She asked, her voice on the edge of sounding perplexed.</p><p>His eyebrows met in the middle as he walked towards the window to light a cigarette.</p><p>The air was awkward between them. Thick and smog like a blanket—uncertain.</p><p>"I'm not due to see him for another week." He said, letting the smoke swirl around his blank face. "Why do you want to visit him? Gonna make daisy chains with your blonde bimbo of a friend?"</p><p>"Don't pretend like you don't like Luna. She is a friend to <em>you</em> as much as she is a friend to me." Hermione scowled at him, letting a hand run though her hair. "I was wondering if Xenophilius could give any insight on how to recover the ink from the letters i found along-side Regulus' wand."</p><p>Draco scoffed and turned away to gaze out the window.</p><p>"He seems like a very smart Wizard." Hermione continued. "Even if he doesn't know how, he may be able to obtain the information from someone else."</p><p>Draco sucked against the end of the cigarette and let the smoke fall against the window, sinking into the cracks, he picked up his index fingers and drew pictures in the condescension it had created.</p><p>"Weren't you smart enough to think you should have asked Regulus that when you met him in the memory?"</p><p>Hermione wanted to punch the vicious look from his face. She wanted to gauge out his silver eyes and throw them into the ocean. She was so furious with him she wasn't sure she could even fathom talking to him any longer. But her curiosity outweighed her anger.</p><p>"Stop being a total cockroach, Malfoy." She squared her shoulders and let her eyes squint as she scowled over at him. "You're so fixated on me learning how to control my wand—but I don't even know why the wand was created."</p><p>He glanced at her but the moment his eyes fell into her own, he staggered and looked back at the window.</p><p>"Once again—something you should have asked Regulus." He shrugged. Hermione knew he was trying to dissociate himself despite actually being interested. "You shouldn't put your trust in someone you hardly know. Xenophilius could easily betray either one of us at any second if he believed it would benefit himself and his aid to the Order."</p><p>Hermione pressed her lips together and thought for a moment. Xenophilius was not only helping Draco from being tracked by Voldemort and his followers—he was helping others. Blaise and Adrian Pucey. Hermione gasped when she remembered what Luna had told her; that Blaise was not responsible for Narcissa's death. She still had not told Draco. She wasn't sure if she wanted to.</p><p>Because if he discovered a Death-Eater was not responsible for his mother's death, would he return to them?</p><p>She pushed the thought to the back of her head to remove it another day.</p><p>"If Xenophilius would so easily betray us then why do you trust him to remove the trace?" Hermione rose an eyebrow. "How does that really work, anyway?"</p><p>Draco stubbed the cigarette against the edge of the window and tossed it outside. Hermione thought there must be a dozen half-smoked cigarettes on the floor by now.</p><p>"I believe he is rather good at potions. And he has been studying the Dark Mark since The Dark Lord rose to power before we were even born." He ran his tongue across his bottom lip. Hermione just now noticed they were plush and bruised in the same way hers were. "Luna told me he had been confuting multiple types of poisons and potions to destroy the Dark Mark. But he's only gotten so far as the removing the trace."</p><p>Hermione rested her chin on her hand and tried to not stare at his red lips. "And even that is unreliable."</p><p>"Cornish Pixie venom." Draco said after a moment of silence. "Apparently that's the main ingredient. Very hard to come by."</p><p>Hermione nodded. Her head began to throb.</p><p>They fell into silence for several seconds.</p><p>"I just—i just want to know the reasons behind the wand. If i'm eventually going to use it for <em>real</em>, I should know."</p><p>Draco tilted his head and cracked his neck. The morning light from outside the window beside him engulfed every curve in his skin.</p><p>"We can go." He sighed. "But don't get your hopes up. He specialises in research on the Mark—He may have no clue."</p><p>—</p><p>Draco had been right in some way.</p><p>Xenophilius did not have an insightful way of revealing the messages within the letters. He sat for fifteen minutes trying multiple types of different spells and charms to recover the ink.</p><p>They had all failed.</p><p>He had questioned them for several minutes with a taunt expression on his face.</p><p>"I hope you aren't meddling in something that doesn't need to be meddled in." He spoke, going through the empty letters one more. His fingers gripped the parchment in annoyance.</p><p>They had left the only letter with ink visible inside of Hermione's pocket. They weren't sure whether it would have been reasonable to expose it to Xenophilius just yet. They weren't sure how well Regulus would be received. They knew little of his reputation.</p><p>Xenophilius brushed a strand of curly blonde hair from his face and shot a pointed stare at Hermione and Draco.</p><p>"Draco, I trusted you in my home. I don't want you to bring Dark Magic here. If you want to go back to the Dark-"</p><p>Draco let his fist hit the table. "Merlin's <em>fuck</em>! We were only asking for your help Xenophilius. We weren't trying to bring anything putrid into your house."</p><p>Hermione winced at the anger in his voice.</p><p>"You can't deny it's reasonable I am skeptical, Draco." Xenophilius responded, letting the blank parchment hit the table. "After all you still occupy the Dark Mark and bare the name Malfoy. You have also brought Potter's Mudblood into my home which I still do not understand."</p><p>"Her name is Granger. Not Potter's Mudblood." Draco replied. He seemed to instantly regret saying it, because he scoffed to hide the last part of his sentence.</p><p>Hermione frowned.</p><p>"My name is Hermione." She grew awkward as the air became stale around them. "Sorry for inconveniencing you, Mr Lovegood."</p><p>Xenophilius shifted and moved to the sink to stare out of the window. A usual occurrence by him, Hermione noted. Almost like he was constantly afraid of an arrival.</p><p>"W-we should go now." Hermione continued, awkwardly rising from her seat. "Thank you."</p><p>Luna appeared in the doorway as Draco rose to leave with Hermione. She paused for a moment before the corners of her mouth twitched and she rushed forward to sit at the table alongside them.</p><p>Hermione noticed her hair was tangled and there was a bruise in the shape of a handprint on her face. There was also blood on her eyebrow and at the back of her neck.</p><p>Xenophilius looked away like he did not notice it.</p><p>"I was not expecting Draco to be here for another week, did something happen?" She asked, her eyes falling nervously between the two of them.</p><p>Hermione nodded towards the empty parchment on the table. "We have these letters that we can't figure out how to disenchant. We just came for some advice."</p><p>Luna tentatively picked the paper up in her fingers.</p><p>She frowned, looking at it through squinted eyes and letting her fingers brush against it slowly. She was inspecting the small imprint on each of the corners on the parchment, which was nothing more than the manufacture of the parchments logo.</p><p>"Well, this—" She paused. Draco and Hermione both turned to look at her. She knew something. "This is the same paper that Kreacher uses."</p><p>Draco and Hermione frowned in unison. Hermione almost didn't notice how his ankle had wrapped around her foot again.</p><p>"Kreacher has letters like this that I cannot read as well—hidden in his cupboard. He is very secretive."</p><p>Draco cleared his throat. "Kreacher?"</p><p>"Who is Kreacher?" Hermione added, not realising how close she had gotten to Luna out of pure interest and confusion.</p><p>"Kreacher—you—you don't know him?" Luna raised an eyebrow, specifically pointed at Draco. "He's an elf. Served the Black Family for a long time. He speaks often about Master Draco and Narcissa. You really <em>don't</em> know him?"</p><p>"I'm not familiar with him. There are many elves who serve my prominent and distant family. I can't keep track of them all—Dobby is bad enough." Draco winced, shaking his head and letting the black strands fall over his eyes. "Elaborate more on the letters."</p><p>Hermione wanted to scoff. What happened to Draco not caring? What happened to him dissociating? She knew he cared more than he was willing to let on.</p><p>"I visit Kreacher at Grimmauld Place. When i'm—" she shot a glance towards Hermione and gulped before turning her gaze away. "—doing other business. He resides there often, works with the Order, he has a stash of letters and artifacts stuffed in his wardrobe. He doesn't speak much about them or what happened before the deaths of the Black Family. But it seems to me that these letters are the receiving line of the ones you brought here."</p><p>It was silent again for a moment. All Hermione could hear was Xenophilius shuffling by the sink and the sound of the wind moving through the hedges outside.</p><p>"Whose letters are they anyway?" Luna asked, staring over at them. "I don't. I can't think of who it'll be and why you'd have them."</p><p>Hermione watched Draco's lips fall into a thin line.</p><p>Hers did the same.</p><p>They both ignored the question tentatively.</p><p>"Bring him here." Draco said, his voice flat. "Next week, when I come to remove the trace, bring him here."</p><p>"Or we could go to h—" Hermione hadn't even gotten half her words out before Draco was elbowing her in the ribs.</p><p>"We are not going to Grimmauld Place, Granger. End of story." Draco spat. His hands were curled into fists on the table.</p><p>Xenophilius disappeared outside with a watering can in his hands.</p><p>Luna nodded. "I can try and bring him. He is rather stubborn. But he may be able to help."</p><p>Hermione breathed a sigh of some sort of relief. She was more than thankful that there could be a possibility in helping her qualms. Her mind was beginning to hurt from all of the events and scenarios she created in her head.</p><p>Hermione's eyes lingered on Luna's face for a moment. Her hair was in bunches like it had been pulled at. There were flakes of dry blood in the strands.</p><p>"Luna, what happened?." Hermione gulped, staring out the window for a moment and noticing the sky had begun plunging into a dark orange.</p><p>After the events in the café—Hermione was beginning to grow fearful of the dark. It made everything feel a little more uncertain.</p><p>"Snatchers." Luna replied, forcing a small smile. "They are hiding in the forests, searching. Most are looking for Harry and Ron, the-they pinned me down and questioned me but let me go when I convinced them I knew nothing of them."</p><p>Hermione's heart grew weak. Draco's ankle around her own suddenly tightened. She winced at how his touch made her heart rate calm.</p><p>"They horrid people, Hermione." Luna's hands trembled on the table just slightly. "They'd do anything for the Dark Lord."</p><p>"You should stay out of the forests then." Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Else your gonna get us all killed."</p><p>Luna nodded like she was sorry.</p><p>"And also—you can't say the Dark Lord's name anymore." Luna told them, her voice growing seriously hard. "Taboo jinx. When the word is spoken, the caster is alerted and protective enchantments around the speaker are weakened—they could find you no matter where you are."</p><p>Hermione gasped and pressed her palm against her sternum. Her first thought was the worry any of her friends had been found. Been hurt. Been taken and killed and tortured for information by the Snatchers or Voldemort himself.</p><p>She felt dizzy. She felt really dizzy. It felt as if she had been dunked in a bath of ice. Everything felt a little more terrifying.</p><p>The image of Luna being pinned to the floor and beaten for information was eating at the edges of her brain. If they could do that to Luna, what would they do to Harry? Or Ron? Or her? Or even...Draco?</p><p>She heard Draco suck his teeth beside her before he wrapped his hand around Hermione's wrist and yanked her to her feet.</p><p>"That's enough scaring people for today, Luna." He growled, pulling Hermione to the door. She had grown so frightened her body did not want to pull away from Draco's touch. "Kreacher better be here next week or I swear i will gouge your eyes from your head."</p><p>Draco apparated them back to Southwark before Luna could reply.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione felt her back hitting the wall in the safe-house hallway.</p><p>Draco's hand rose to her face and gripped her cheeks in his palms.</p><p>"Are you okay?" He asked, an eyebrow raising as he stared down at her. "You look like you're on the verge of a panic attack."</p><p>Not only was Hermione trying to calm her mind of all of the horrid thoughts that had begun running through it—she now had to worry about <em>why</em> Draco was pressing her against a wall and suddenly showing any form of interest in her mental well-being.</p><p>"Granger?" He asked, shaking her head a little when all she did was stare back at him with blank eyes. "Snatchers won't find us here—"</p><p>She gripped his hands in her own and shoved them away from her face. How dare he have the audacity to act like he cared for her?</p><p>"I don't care if they find us!" She didn't mean to yell. Not that there was any use in yelling, Draco still had his chest nearly flat against hers in the hallway. Her back still rubbed against the brittle wallpaper. "It's not us i'm worried about—It's Harry and Ron. And Luna. Ginny and Seamus and <em>everyone</em> else!"</p><p>Draco caught her chin with his fingers. She felt compelled to push him away, but she stood frozen in his grasp.</p><p>His touch was like snow in a battlefield.</p><p>Cold but tentative. Cold but useful. Calming. <em>Needed</em>. She needed it more than she wanted to admit.</p><p>"Ginny and the others are at Hogwarts. They are safe there." His fingers twitched against her jaw. "I don't need you dying of a panic attack on my dead mothers floor, okay?"</p><p>God she hated him. She hated him. She <em>hated</em> him. She was beginning to hate him because she was beginning to <em>not</em> hate him.</p><p>She hated him because as she stood there, her body riddled with anxiety and fear and worry, when she looked up at the way his skin twinged beneath the warm yellow light and how his silver eyes darkened into sterling when they sank into her own, she wanted nothing more than to touch him. To kiss him. To feel his snowy touch on her broken body.</p><p>He leaned down without warning and caught her mouth with his own.</p><p>He tasted like snow but felt like a Dragon.</p><p>Why was he always so hard to pick apart? Snow and Dragon. Too complex. Too different. But so right.</p><p>His hands fell into her hair, cupping the base of her head as he pulled her closer to him. He groaned when he felt her chest pressing against his own and Hermione felt as if she were drowning. All of her panic and anxiety had slowly disappeared. She arched into him, letting his tongue press against the roof of her mouth until her eyes swung open and she pushed him away.</p><p>He stumbled backwards and his expression switched.</p><p>Regret suddenly engulfed every inch of his face.</p><p>"Don't do that." Hermione said, trying to catch her breath. "D—don't act like you don't care and then do <em>that</em>."</p><p>Draco sneered as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.</p><p>"Fuck you, Granger." He spat, shaking his head and stalking away upstairs.</p><p>He seemed ashamed.</p><p>They didn't speak about it again. Four days went past, and they did not speak of it. They did not speak of the way he had touched her on the sofa when they were tipsy and they did not speak of the way he caught her chin in his fingers and kissed him.</p><p>It was an unspoken tension. They both knew it. They both stared at one-another with brazen eyes and tingling skin—but they did not speak of it.</p><p>They both silently agreed it was a mistake. It would not work.</p><p>Having sex with the enemy was never a good idea—no matter how much you wanted it. No matter how many times Hermione dreamt of Draco sinking into her, of him pushing her against the wall in the shower and leaving bruises on every inch of her skin, or of him sliding his fingers inside of her and curving them until she came. No matter how many times. She told herself it could not happen again.</p><p>The best thing to do was to leave. To pack her stuff and turn her gaze away and never return to the company of Draco Malfoy again.</p><p>But every-time she considered leaving her feet would not move.</p><p>Every-time she closed her eyes, he was there.</p><p>She wanted nothing more than to kiss him again—but she would not allow herself to.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Twenty.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kreacher was a brittle old elf with a long droopy nose and withered skin.</p><p>He had apparated into the Lovegood home with his small hand wrapped tightly around Luna's forearm moments after Xenophilius had finished prodding Draco's arm with the green blade and disappeared outside with a watering can. Kreacher shook his head slightly like he had become dizzy before looking around, his eyes instantly falling over Hermione who was sitting at the dining table with her legs crossed.</p><p>"Hello, Kreacher," Hermione spoke, ignoring the scoff from beside her. Draco had no intention of being nice to the elf, she knew that. "Thank you for joining us. Please sit down."</p><p>Luna excused herself, but not before placing a pile of letters tied with an identical string to the ones left by Regulus, onto the table.</p><p>Kreacher scowled at her. His beady eyes were glossed over, reflecting against the irredentist light coming from the Lovegood's seashell chandelier.</p><p>Hermione felt confused at his reaction.</p><p>Luna had stated that Kreacher "<em>often spoke of Draco and Narcissa</em>". It seemed odd that he had not jumped up and down excitedly, in the same way Dobby did every-time he saw Harry, Ron and Herself.</p><p>But then again Kreacher had never actually <em>met</em> Draco.</p><p>"Who has Miss brought Kreacher to meet?" Kreacher spoke, his voice coming out croaked and torn. He sounded much <em>much</em> older than Dobby, he <em>looked</em> much older, too. "Kreacher does not recognise these wizards."</p><p>He seemed apprehensive but stepped closer to the table just slightly.</p><p>"I'm Hermione Granger—"</p><p>Before Hermione could finish speaking, the elf was lurching towards her with a malevolent stance, his words coming out venomous—yet fearful.</p><p>"You're Potter's filthy little Mudblood!"</p><p>The chair beside Hermione scratched the floor as Draco stood and lurched back at Kreacher.</p><p>"Know your worth elf! Speak to her like that again and I'll have your head on a stick!" Draco spat, scowling when Hermione yanked the back of his black blazer to pull him back into his seat.</p><p>Kreacher cowered back into a shadow for a moment before re-emerging. He seemed a little shaken at Draco's outburst—Like a wizard hadn't threatened him in a while.</p><p>"Sit down." Draco said through his teeth.</p><p>Hermione could feel the anger radiating from his body beside her, his fists were curled into balls on the table.</p><p>"Kreacher meant no real offence, sir." Kreacher spoke as he climbed up onto the chair. Hermione heard his bones creak. "Kreacher has been taught that the best wizards are not Mudblood's, sir."</p><p>Kreacher began looking at Draco while squinting.</p><p>"And yous is?" Kreacher asked, resting his small, wrinkled hands on the table.</p><p>Draco scoffed. Hermione glanced at him and watched him cock his head to the side to crack his neck like he was preparing for a battle. Hermione had repeatedly told him to treat the elf with <em>respect</em>. Draco of course had rolled his eyes at her request and told her that "<em>elves would only be respected if they deserved it</em>." She assumed Draco definitely did not believe Kreacher deserved his respect—Hermione didn't know why. Mudblood seemed to be Draco's favourite insult as well.</p><p>While it upset her, Hermione didn't let the insult fester. Most elves were enslaved by Pure-Blood families, taught that Pure-Blood's held the highest regime of Wizarding Power. She knew he meant no <em>real</em> offence.</p><p>"Draco Malfoy." Draco said, his fists still shaking just slightly on the table.</p><p>Kreacher gasped. It looked as though he stopped breathing.</p><p>"Mr Malfoy? Is it really Mistress Black's son?" His voice suddenly sounded more chipper. A hint of excitement falling through his words. "Now I looks at you—yous looks very much like Mistress Black!"</p><p>Draco gave a small grunt as a reply, but his fists had uncurled at the mention of his mother.</p><p>"You served the Black Family, if I'm correct?" Draco asked, keeping his voice dancing on the edge of annoyed. "What was your relationship with my mother, elf?"</p><p>Kreacher cleared his throat and glanced at Hermione for a moment before looking back to Draco. His blue eyes were shaking in the sockets.</p><p>"Kreacher served the Black Family for many years. Your mother left, sir, along with Master Regulus. Master Regulus was the kindest Master and took me to Mistress Narcissa's home to carry out his task, sir. I left the Black Family after Master Regulus died—Narcissa let made me go, sir, And now I helps out at Grimmauld Place with Mistress Luna and the others—"</p><p>Kreacher slammed his hands over his mouth like he had said too much.</p><p>"Kreacher should not have told you that!" He growled, smacking himself on his head. "Kreacher is doing great dishonour to his Master!"</p><p>Hermione sighed and reached forward to grasp Kreacher's wrists. She pulled them so he was not hitting himself anymore, but he quickly yanked his hands away like he was disgusted at the thought of her skin.</p><p>"These letters—" Draco spoke, his voice serious. He seemed to not care about Kreacher's emotions, he seemed like he wanted to get to the bottom of the set task and leave.</p><p>Draco reached into his pocket and untangled the letters before slamming them onto the table beside the ones Luna had set down.</p><p>"—We want the messages uncovered. Do it now."</p><p>Kreacher looked down at the two bundles of letters. His eyes were still trembling in the sockets. It seemed as though he was struggling to breathe—like he was frightened, like a child who had been caught drawing on the walls or cutting their own hair.</p><p>"Where did Master Draco and the Mudblood find the letters?" He asked, shooting them both an uncertain glare. "The letters are not for yous to see."</p><p>Draco shot forward and gripped the cloth dress that hung around Kreacher's small body. He yanked the elf towards him and spoke so closely to his face Hermione could see Kreacher flinching.</p><p>"An elf has no right to keep using <em>that</em> word, you are lesser than every wizard there is." Draco spat, his fist tightening around the cloth. "Uncover the fucking letters or I will <em>kill</em> you."</p><p>Kreacher's eyes were wide but he did not seem scared. He was most likely used to treatment like this from his Masters. After all, Bellatrix Lestrange used to be one of them.</p><p>"I swore to Master Regulus to not uncover the letters for anyone, sir, you see, they is very dangerous, they could get you in very much trouble, sir—" The old elf began trembling just slightly as Draco dropped him back onto the chair and reclined into his chair beside Hermione.</p><p>Hermione sighed and tried another approach.</p><p>"Kreacher, we trust you. The information will only stay between the three of us, really." Hermione said, smiling down at the elf. "It is rather important we discover the messages. If you can't, then maybe you could just tell us what <em>this</em> was made for?"</p><p>Hermione reached into her pocket and slid her wand into her hand. It vibrated against her skin, the magic shifting between the wood and her palm. As she held it up before placing it on the table, she heard a screech emit from Kreacher, who had jumped from his chair and ducked behind it.</p><p>"Yous should not have that!" He was shouting louder than Hermione had ever heard an elf speak, even louder than when Winky had yelled in the kitchens during fourth-year. "That is very dangerous! Yous should <em>not</em> be having that!"</p><p>Draco was seemingly becoming more agitated. Hermione once again hadn't noticed that his foot had wrapped around her own beneath the table and was trembling with anger. Draco slammed his fists on the table before grasping Hermione's wand from the table and pointing it towards Kreacher.</p><p>"What the hell are you doing?" Hermione whispered, her mouth falling ajar. "Malfoy put that down! We do not treat elves like that!"</p><p>"This isn't a moment to be mouthing all that S.P.E.W stuff to me, Granger." Draco shot her a glare and spoke through his teeth. "Just shut up and let me figure it out."</p><p>Hermione's mouth fell closed as she gawked over at Kreacher who was withering behind the chair.</p><p>"Now, elf, tell me why Regulus made this wand," Draco spoke, still pointing the wand towards Kreacher. "Tell me and you can go."</p><p>Kreacher did not respond. His fingers wrapped around the back of the chair.</p><p>"What was Regulus' task?" Draco tried. "What is in the letters, elf, tell us!"</p><p>Silence.</p><p>The wind whistled past the window, rattling the seashell chandelier above the table. Draco sucked his teeth. It was silent for several seconds until Hermione watched the corners of Draco's mouth twitch upwards.</p><p>"Wouldn't my mother want you to do what's <em>right</em>?" Draco asked. He shot Hermione a tentative stare like he had cracked the code. "The right thing—the safest thing, for all of us, would be to uncover the letters."</p><p>It clicked in Hermione's head the moment Kreacher stuck his head around the edge of the chair to listen to Draco more intently.</p><p>"What did my mother used to treat you like, elf?" Draco continued, his voice suddenly becoming softer. "My mother always treated Dobby with kindness. She'd tell him to be happy but respectful. To always keep us safe. Is that what she used to tell you before she married my father and sent you away?"</p><p>Kreacher slowly came back around the chair and stood awkwardly by the side of it. He was just a head taller than the seat. His long nose caught the shadow from the window and cast it in a black glare, making it hard for Hermione to read whether he was angry, scared, or just upset.</p><p>"Mistress Black was a very kind woman indeed, sir, she and Master Regulus were very nice to Kreacher, sir." Kreacher shuffled forward and jumped back onto the chair, keeping his eye carefully locked on the wand still in Draco's hand. "Master Regulus and Mistress Narcissa's main concern was me serving them greatly and keeping them safe, sir."</p><p>Hermione sat patiently while Kreacher spoke, his words on the edge of wist and nostalgia. Something had shifted, he seemed more open, more gentle. The ragged grumpy old elf that had apparated into the Lovegood home just twenty minutes earlier was slowly disappearing. He appeared younger while speaking of Narcissa and Regulus.</p><p>"Mistress Black took me away from the mean Masters like Bellatrix Lestrange." Kreacher said apprehensively. "But, Sir, I should not speak badly about my Masters."</p><p>Kreacher paused. "But Kreacher had to be careful, sir, I went back to Grimmauld Place four times a week so they would not suspect Regulus' plans against Tom, sir."</p><p>Draco hummed. Hermione sat silently, suddenly very aware of Draco's cold ankle against her own.</p><p>"Regulus was very kind? Wouldn't he want you to do the right thing and tell us what's hiding in these letters? Especially now that the wand has chosen Granger as its user." Draco said very smugly. "That would be doing the right thing, wouldn't it?"</p><p>Kreacher made some sort of sad hissing noise and lurched to grasp his set of letters in his fingers. He held them defensively to his chest.</p><p>"The wand has chosen the Mudblood?" Kreacher shook his head in a confused manner. "Master Regulus never mentioned the Mudblood. Only a powerful witch."</p><p>Draco's fist hit the table. "Well, it did. Granger owns the wand now."</p><p>There was a silence for several seconds.</p><p>"The letters." Draco said once more, his voice suddenly sullen, like he was fed up of pressing the elf.</p><p>It almost made Hermione happy. Draco hadn't shown much interest in this topic before now. He had always pushed her away and told her she was stupid for "<em>thinking about it so much</em>". She wondered what changed for him to suddenly be so interested in the letters and getting to the bottom of the wand left in his mother's safe house.</p><p>Deep down Hermione knew it was the sudden spark of meeting someone so close to Narcissa. As soon as her name was mentioned, a flip had switched.</p><p>With the letters still clutched at his chest, Kreacher's shoulders slumped.</p><p>"Well, sir, what would yous give Kreacher in return, sir?" He asked, raising a slimy eyebrow. "These letters have very important informations, sir, but maybe, sir, it's safe to show <em>you."</em></p><p>Hermione sighed and unhooked her foot from Draco's beneath the table and leant over the table.</p><p>Elves were extremely prone to being Mooches. Especially older elves. Something they had in common with Goblins—there was no getting something from a Goblin without giving them something in return. It was always a two-way street.</p><p>"This isn't a bargain, elf!" Draco scoffed. "You don't get to pick and choose—"</p><p>"What do you want, Kreacher?" Hermione cut Draco off, leaning over the table with a smile on her face. "Some Gold? Draco has lots of gold. Books? I have many books."</p><p>Kreacher dropped the letters back onto the table, but they were still close to his body.</p><p>"Do yous have the Mudbloods old wand?" Kreacher asked, suddenly seeming rather interested. "I would loves to have the Mudbloods old wand."</p><p>Fucking Ollivander.</p><p>
  <em>"There is no use in keeping a dormant wand. It could cause more harm than good."</em>
</p><p>It seemed as though there was a use in keeping a Dormant wand. She wanted to punch Ollivander in the face for snapping her wand in two pieces.</p><p>"I'm sorry Kreacher, the old wand is broken."</p><p>Kreacher hissed again but thought for a moment. His eyes scanned the room, before landing on Draco's hand that was curled into a fist on a table.</p><p>"Kreacher would like sir's ring very much." Kreacher rubbed his hands together excitedly.</p><p>Draco let out an animal type of noise, and shook his head so viscously that a few neat strands of black fell over his eyes.</p><p>"No," Draco said point-blank. "Not happening."</p><p>Hermione glanced over at Draco with pleading eyes. He looked back at her for a mere second with his jaw rolling and continued to shake his head.</p><p>"Malf—"</p><p>"No, Granger. I said it's not happening." Draco's foot was tapping on the floor. "This is my ring. A family heirloom. I am not giving it to a fucking elf! <em>No</em>."</p><p>Hermione sighed and looked at Kreacher, who had outstretched one of his small hands expectantly. It was frustrating. Hermione felt a sudden urge to scream with frustration. All she wanted was <em>answers</em>. Answers to why she had been chosen to withhold this stupid fucking wand that had the power to kill if she wanted it to. Why she felt so compelled to stay with Draco. Why it was even created in the first place.</p><p>But Draco was stubborn, but so was Kreacher. They stared at each other for a few minutes. Kreacher annoyingly kept scanning over the letters like he could read them, before glancing up and smirking before looking back at Draco's ring.</p><p>Why did he want the ring?</p><p>"What would you do with Malfoy's ring, Kreacher?" Hermione asked, looking down at the silver ring that was engraved with a snake. The emerald in the snakes eye was sparkling beneath the chandelier.</p><p>"Kreacher would wears the ring." Kreacher spoke, his words evening truthful. "Master Regulus had a ring exactly the same. It reminds Kreacher very much of his kind master."</p><p>Draco's jaw twitched. "No."</p><p>"Then Kreacher will not uncover the letters for you, sir, you see, these letters, sir, they hold my masters' secrets."</p><p>Hermione didn't know why she felt tears welling up in her eyes. Maybe she had stupidly gotten her hopes up. She really had thought everything would come to light—her weird dreams and memories of Regulus Black. The wand.</p><p>Dear <em>God</em> did the wand frustrate her.</p><p>She sniffled and look over at Draco as Kreacher hopped off the seat and called for Luna. He clutched the empty letters in his hands.</p><p>Draco bore one look at Hermione and sighed.</p><p>"Fine, elf." He slid the ring off his finger, very very slowly, not letting his eyes crack from Hermione's flushed face. "Have the fucking ring."</p><p>He leant down to hand the ring to Kreacher, and grasped the letters in his hands before dropping the silver ring into Kreacher's hand.</p><p>"Now—the letters." Draco scowled.</p><p>Kreacher nodded, quickly stuffing the ring into the pocket on his stomach.</p><p>"The letters are sealed by elf magics, sir, which is why yous cannot read them." He stood on his tiptoes slowly and grasped the other pile of letters from the table.</p><p>He whispered something, and to Hermione's delight, the letters were suddenly dawned in black ink.</p><p>A tear fell from her cheek in relief.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione sat on the floor by the fire for three hours reading the letters over and over and over again.</p><p>Her head pounded tremendously. Her eyes stung from angered tears full of confusion and relief. They stung with a black rim, stained with the words on the parchment.</p><p>Draco sat behind her on the sofa, sipping on a glass of Fire-whiskey.</p><p>He didn't ask any questions until she dropped the parchment into her lap with a soft gasp of trepidation leaving her throat.</p><p>"Well?" He said, cocking an eyebrow up. The glass was raised high by his chest and he was tapping the glass with his index finger impatiently. "What was all the fuss about, then?"</p><p>Hermione stared at him through squinted eyes. He was slightly blurry from her tears, but she could still make out the dark hollows beneath his eyes and the red firelight casting a devilish stance across the left side of his face.</p><p>"The wand is made out of a Horcrux." Hermione said blankly, not believing the words leaving her mouth.</p><p>Draco's mouth parted to an 'O' shape. He leaned forward slightly on the sofa and rested his elbows against his knees while he gulped from his drink until the glass was empty.</p><p>Hermione grasped one of the letters and held it into the light and read it out loud.</p><p>
  <em>"Dear Kreacher,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Tom has entrusted me with something very important. The Locket Of Slytherin. The locket is a piece of jewellery originally owned by Salazar Slytherin that became an heirloom of his family.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>He wants me to protect it. He has told me the location to store it. I want you to take the locket there when my family are sleeping. I want you to hide it. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>— R.A.B"</em>
</p><p>Hermione cleared her throat and placed the letter on the floor before picking up another and reading it.</p><p>
  <em>"Dear Kreacher. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>I must inform you the locket needs to be destroyed. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>I have to destroy it. I no longer can go forward with Tom's plan. The Locket is a Horcrux. It will save Tom's life unless destroyed with a Goblin-Wrought blade. I will destroy it. Take me to the location at precisely noon next Thursday evening. Oh, and Bring the replica locket you brought from that young man Mundungus Fletcher.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>— R.A.B."</em>
</p><p>Draco placed the empty glass onto the coffee table and stared at Hermione through fiery red eyes.</p><p>
  <em>"Dead Kreacher.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I cannot destroy the locket. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>It is proving most difficult. The Goblin-Wrought blades you brought from Mundungus Fletcher must have been fakes. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>Instead, I need you to bring me some Basilisk Fang, elm wood, and some fire-whiskey.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I have a plan that will prove more useful than destroying the locket—I want to Tom's plan on its back—make the Horcrux able to destroy </em>
  <b>
    <em>him</em>
  </b>
  <em>. A strong witch will...well It'll make sense eventually. I'll tell you more in person. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>See you soon, Kreacher.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>—R.A.B"</em>
</p><p>Hermione felt as if she was struggling to breathe. Everything was overwhelming. Her heart was pounding in her chest like a gun.</p><p>"There are many letters you can read later but—the last one—which was already revealed—it has more to it—listen.</p><p>
  <em>The Task is done.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>The wand is complete. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>Take me back to the cave at noon tomorrow evening, you'll need to apparate us from the cave once I have poured the Drink of Despair poison on the wand to activate the charms. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>I have informed Narcissa. She has promised to keep you safe from now on. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>See you soon, Kreacher. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>— R.A.B."</em>
</p><p>Draco was still staring at her, his eyes glossing over her face. His expression was uncertain, half on edge of being insightful and half on edge of being annoyed.</p><p>"So my mother knew the entire time? Yet she—"</p><p>He shook his head and crossed his arms like he didn't want to speak.</p><p><em>"Yet she continued to marry my father and join the Dark Lords side." </em>Hermione finished the sentence for him in her mind.</p><p>Hermione clutched her chest with her hand, pressing her palm against her sternum.</p><p>Draco watched her carefully, silently.</p><p>"I—I should find Harry and Ron, I should tell them to stop looking for this Horcrux—I should throw this wand away, snap it in half, destroy it—right? Oh, Malfoy I don't understand. If it's a Horcrux, how can it <em>destroy</em> Tom? It holds his soul—"</p><p>"Come here," Draco said, interrupting her. "Granger, come here."</p><p>Hermione paused and looked at him while she gasped for air. She felt like she was choking on all of the sudden information clogging her mind. <br/><br/>"You look like you're having a panic attack, again." He spoke, reaching forward to grasp her shoulder and tug her beside him. "Just fucking take a deep breath—Dear Salazar you're gonna die if you don't calm down."</p><p>She fell against the velvet sofa with a small gasp. Hermione couldn't work out if Draco was annoyed or worried—his face was curled up in some sort of aggravation, his eyebrows furrowed into the centre of his face and his eyes sparkling with what looked like a putrid expression of...concern.</p><p>He grasped her shoulders in his hands and shook her lightly. It snapped her out of her daze just slightly and she was suddenly more than aware of the smell of Fire-Whiskey falling from his mouth.</p><p>"Just fucking calm down, why don't you?" His voice was suddenly much louder than it had been previously. "I thought you wanted to know about the letters—now you know, why are you panicking?"</p><p>Hermione was silent for a moment, trying to piece together why she was panicking. Deep down she knew why—fear. It all felt too real. It meant she would have a role...or a secret ...in the war. That scared her.</p><p>"I'm scared." She admitted, gazing up at Draco, whose hands had slowly risen to rest at the base of her neck. "It's a Horcrux. And it's <em>mine</em>."</p><p>Draco's lips curled against his teeth but then the corners of his mouth twitched into a smirk.</p><p>"Exactly..." He mused, one of his thumbs slowly rubbing against the base of her throat. "It's <em>yours</em>. Doesn't that make you feel powerful? Happy? Important? It's <em>yours, </em>Granger."</p><p>Hermione felt her breath stiffen when he edged closer to her.</p><p>"I don't—I don't want to be important anymore, Malfoy." She confessed. "That's the reason I left, you think I would have run anyway for any other reason? I want—I want—"</p><p>His palm had fully enveloped her neck and was squeezing the base of her throat. She felt as though she couldn't breathe, <em>again</em>. That happened often. Every time Draco touched her it was like her lungs became barren, frozen. Cold.</p><p>"You want to be normal?" Draco quirked his voice on the edge of a scoff. "You're a witch, Granger, you will never be normal."</p><p>It was silent as he scoped down to let his eyes level her own.</p><p>"You didn't seem to want to be normal when you were using the cruciatus curse back in Greenwich. You don't seem to want to be normal until Xenophilius you those potions." He continued. "Your mind changes quicker than a colour-changing mushroom."</p><p>Hermione was more than aware of his other hand resting against the base of her skull, his fingers tugging at the curls that wisped against the crook of her neck.</p><p>"S—Stop doing that." She said again as Draco levelled closer to her and let his lips ghost over her own. "We still haven't—You still avoid what happened the other day, when we drank—"</p><p>Draco hissed and snatched his hands back like he had been burnt by her skin.</p><p>"Nothing happened." He spat. Hermione couldn't help but flinch. Just moments ago, he had been inches away from kissing her once more.</p><p>It was like he was unable to control his actions when it came to her. Hermione hated that she <em>liked</em> that. She liked that she made him lose control in some weird fucked up way.</p><p>The absence of his hand against her neck made her feel strangely dismayed. She had almost liked it, as much as she tried to not let herself.</p><p>"We were drunk," Draco said again, looking down at her through his nose. "It was stupid. I shouldn't have...done that."</p><p>Hermione scoffed and rose from her place on the sofa, she made her way back to the fireplace and began folding the letters back together into their correct places. She tried to not let her fingers shake.</p><p>"It was stupid?" Hermione didn't mean to say it. "Because I'm disgusting, right? How dare you even touch a <em>Mudblood</em>!"</p><p>She angrily wrapped the thread back around both the piles of letters and let them hit the wood on the coffee table. While she was doing so, Draco had crossed to the dining table and had begun pouring himself another glass of Fire-Whiskey. He sipped it once before he crossed to the window, pulling out a cigarette.</p><p>He was thinking about what he wanted to say. He was thinking long and hard as he lit his cigarettes it brought it to his lips.</p><p>"It was stupid because I had always hated you." His voice was curt. "People who hate each other don't do...<em>that</em>."</p><p>Hermione swore that she saw his cheeks turning red beneath the moonlight pooling through the window by his side. Hermione cleared her throat and looked at her fingers, which were absentmindedly picking at the thread on her jumper.</p><p>"I hate you and you hate me, but isn't that why this works?" She felt Draco's eyes lingering on her skin but refused to meet his gaze. "Isn't that why we've stayed here together? Because it's comfortable? hating one another?"</p><p>Draco sucked at the end of his cigarette and scoffed. She felt his eyes locking onto her body as she stood, walked towards the table and took an uninvited sip of his Fire-Whiskey.</p><p>"Maybe, Granger." Hermione watched the smoke leave his mouth as he spoke. "Maybe it works because I find you revolting, yet so—"</p><p>He paused like he needed to stop what he was about to say.</p><p>Hermione finished his sentence while rolling her eyes backwards. "Addictive?"</p><p>"Stop being a cunt." Draco tuffed, running a hand through his hair.</p><p>Whenever he was blonde, he was the cruel Malfoy from school. The cruel Malfoy who bullied her and teased her. It was also the cruel Malfoy who pushed her against walls and fingered her on the sofa, refusing to speak of it again.</p><p>She was beginning to favour this side of Malfoy over the smart, collected, Black-haired Draco she had gotten to know at the Boathouse.</p><p>Strange.</p><p>"I'm not a—cunt." She coughed, placing his glass of Whiskey back onto the table before moving to lean against the counter. "I'm merely repeating your own words!"</p><p>He rasped and scowled at her. He stubbed his cigarette prematurely against the windowsill and flicked it out of the crack at the base of the window.</p><p>He strode forward and gripped her hips in his hands, pushing her flank against the counter.</p><p>The edges of the brown countertops dug into the base of her back uncomfortably, but that's not what she was focusing on. She was focusing on how his body was pressed against her chest and torso and waist. She was focusing on one of his hands was digging into the skin on her hips and the other slowly rising her body, where it settled just beneath her left breast.</p><p>"Is <em>this</em> what you fucking want, Mudblood?" He spat, yanking her lightly so her hips lifted from the countertop before slamming her back against it.</p><p>His mouth dropped down to press against her face and she gasped when she felt his teeth rolling over her jaw.</p><p>Is this what she wanted? Realistically—no. He was Draco Malfoy. Her bully. Harry and Ron's bully. An active Death-Eater, not to mention an attempted murderer.</p><p>But...was this what she <em>wanted</em>? Truthfully—yes. Hermione couldn't lie to herself and pretend his touch wasn't enslaving and lustful and so <em>so</em>...additive.</p><p>"You want me to do things we will regret? You want me to fuck you? You want me to taint my blood by fucking you? Is that what you fucking want?" He asked, his voice dangling on the edge of being dangerous.</p><p>The hand beneath her breast moved up to cup the back of her head again. His nails dug into her scalp as he tugged her head back to suck her throat beneath her chin.</p><p>"I'm f—fed up of you doing things and then acting as if you regret it!" Hermione yelled back, her hands hooking behind his neck without her even thinking about it. "If you think I'm so disgusting then—<em>shit</em>—don't bother doing it at all—"</p><p>Draco lips fell against her own, trapping her words in her mouth.</p><p>His fingers pulled against her hair so hard she felt as though he was pulling the strands from her scalp, but she couldn't help but whimper.</p><p>"Shut up Rose," Draco said into her mouth. The hand on her torso clenched at the small of her back and she whimpered again. "You can't take it like a good girl?"</p><p>Hermione tugged on Draco's bottom lip at his words. At the pet name. At the way his thigh and slid beneath her legs and pressed against her.</p><p>Just twenty minutes ago they were talking about the fact Hermione possessed a Horcrux and now they were leaning against the kitchen snogging and moaning in unison.</p><p>The world was falling around them in war and they were....kissing.</p><p>Hermione didn't care.</p><p>Her hands fell through the white strands at his neck and tugged it when his lips fell to her collarbone, kissing the space between her beck and shoulder.</p><p>"Disgusting." He said again, his teeth sinking into her skin above her shoulder.</p><p>It was so much Deja Vu she was <em>glad</em> to be reliving.</p><p>"You're just as disgusting as me, Anchor." She shot back.</p><p>He hissed and span her around, pushing her against the dining table. Her back hit the wood of the table and her head fell beside the glass of Fire-Whisky with a gentle thud.</p><p>His hands worked over her body, pressing in places she wanted to be pressed, ghosting her nipples and squeezing her throat, all while he brought the whiskey to his mouth and sipped it, silently watching her wither against his hand.</p><p>When she moaned again, he threw the glass onto the floor and smirked when it smashed.</p><p>"You're fucking disgusting." He breathed, bringing his lips to her mouth.</p><p>They kissed in silence, nothing but lustful moans and explicative's leaving their mouths, for several minutes.</p><p>Draco then slotted himself between her thighs, dragging his hand down to press against her pubic bone. He smirked when she shivered and moaned at the growing tension between her legs.</p><p>Before she had time to process it, Draco was sliding down her body and pulling the bottom half of her clothes off. She gasped when she felt his breath against her clit, suddenly growing very shy at the fact she was almost butt-naked and exposed beneath the yellow light.</p><p>Draco Malfoy was staring at her naked body, his lips metres away from her.</p><p>A Death-Eater, a bully, <em>her</em> bully, Draco <em>fucking</em> Malfoy.</p><p>Why did she enjoy it so much? Being so filthy? Why was she so excited by it?</p><p>"If i'm so disgusting, like you say, why are you so wet from my touch, Rose?" He dragged a finger up her slit, coating his fingers in her juices. "You're so fucking filthy, aren't you? Do all Mudbloods get this wet at the hands of a Death-Eater?"</p><p>She knew she should have wanted to slap him, but she couldn't. She felt dizzy. She felt desperate. So fucking desperate, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of her.</p><p>She knew she was royalty fucked when her hips arched into his touch without her asking them too.</p><p>Draco smirked and grasped her hips in his large hands, his touch deathly cold against her bare skin.</p><p>He spoke with lust ridden in every word. "Let's see if you can take my tongue like a good girl, hm?"</p><p>—</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>I also wanna clear some confusion and say this fic is leading up to the war, but it is 1999, the war is lasting longer than they believed and the ministry had kept the students at Hogwarts for safety. Many of the events leading up the original battle are delayed! Things like Hermione being tortured by Bella have not happened yet as most students were made to stay at Hogwarts! It is taking them longer to find the Horcruxes etc. </em>
  </b>
  <br/>
  <b>
    <em>Thank you.</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Twenty-One.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione's body lay slack against the dining table in some sort of shock and anticipation.</p><p>She had never done <em>this</em> before. Nobody had ever done this for <em>her</em> before. And it quickly became apparent that Draco was a giver rather than a taker—which shocked her in a way. Draco had never even wanted to <em>touch</em> her before now, yet here he was, attaching his mouth to her clit and sucking on it to watch her shake beneath him.</p><p>Without even thinking about it, her hands went forward to grip a fist-full of his white hair in her hands, tugging it with vigour in an attempt to stop her hips from rising against his mouth.</p><p>"Oh Merlin—" She whispered as he licked a strip up her slit with the flat of his tongue, before circling it on her clit. "—Jesus don't stop doing <em>that</em>."</p><p>Draco pulled back for a second and looked up at her through his eyelashes. She caught his stare, leaning her head up from the table to protest that he had stopped, because Dear Fuck did he look unbelievable—his pale skin was dancing under the firelight and his lips were glossed with her wetness. Not the mention the devilish smirk playing on his lips, twitching at the corners. All words failed her and her head fell backwards with a thud.</p><p>"Do you realise you just used Oh Jesus and Oh Merlin in the same sentence?" She wriggled when his breath fanned her. "You really are a fucking Mudblood."</p><p>Hermione tugged at the back of his head until his smirk faded and he ducked back down, pressing his tongue into her with so much encumbrance she felt as though she was going to pass out.</p><p>His hands were still digging into her waist, but as his tongue moved inside of her, he gripped her left thigh with his palm and guided it to rest over his shoulder, deepening the angle of his tongue.</p><p>She tried to not scream, she really tried to. But how could she not fall back and moan when his tongue was moving inside of her in such a way? How could she not moan when Draco hummed against her every single time she tugged at his hair?</p><p>
  <em>You're going insane, Hermione.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You're really going insane.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>How could you enjoy this? He was a Death-Eater. He's horrible and cruel and spiteful. How could allow him to touch you on the dining table? How could you allow him to make you scream? Why?</em>
</p><p>Hermione whimpered and pushed her thoughts to the back of her mind. She didn't care. She didn't care and she didn't feel guilty about the fact she <em>didn't care</em>.</p><p>How could she care? How could she care when she was staring down at Draco who was gazing up at her, his eyes black and blue and lustful, his tongue now circling and licking against her clit once more.<em> She didn't care. She didn't. She really didn't give two fucks.</em></p><p>Draco moved his mouth to fall against her thigh. They felt swollen and wet and Hermione nearly cringed until he moved a hand from her thigh and pressed two fingers into her, filling the void in his which his tongue had just been occupying.</p><p>"I want to fuck you <em>so</em> bad, Rose." He murmured against her skin. "But you're so—you're a—don't make me fuck you."</p><p>His teeth were sinking into her thigh while his fingers continued to press into her at an antagonisingly slow speed, curling up to meet her g-spot.</p><p>She had never felt anything like this before.</p><p>"I want to wreck you so fucking badly." He continued, his voice dancing in a trance. "I want to <em>destroy</em> you Rose, why do I want to fucking destroy you?"</p><p><em>Rose Rose Rose Rose</em>—Being called Rose did nothing but excite her. It almost made it feel as if it wasn't <em>really</em> happening, as if it wasn't <em>her</em>. It made her feel as though she had nothing to be guilty about, nothing to worry about. Because Draco wasn't Draco right now, he was Anchor. And Hermione wasn't Hermione, she was Rose.</p><p>Hermione could barely hear his words over her ragged whimpers, but they were there, curling into her eardrums and settling into her brain. She knew they would taunt her at a later date, one way or another.</p><p>"Fucking Granger—Rose—so pure and so angelic, so clean and smart and perfect—" His voice sank into her thigh, he was smirking against her skin as his fingers pulled out all the way just to slam back inside again. "I want to taint you, I want to riddle you with Dark Magic and fuck you till your even more disgusting than you already are."</p><p>
  <em>Then do it.</em>
</p><p>Hermione could not speak, she was too close. She was a mess of whimpers and whines and moans. It was impossible to speak, as much as she wanted to. As much as she wanted to taunt him and ruin him—she couldn't.</p><p>He attached his mouth back against her clit while his fingers continued to fuck her. He seemed more than proud of himself, watching her shake beneath him.</p><p>"I can't fuck you—I can't—I want to—" He was talking against her clit, the vibrations making Hermione's back arch into him. "Just stop making me want to fuck you—it would ruin me."</p><p>Hermione smirked and whispered "Good."</p><p>She was sure that he hadn't heard her, but he did. His lips stilled against her, before he snapped and fucked into her until she came, moaning "<em>Fucking fuck Malfoy</em>."</p><p>Malfoy. Not Anchor. Malfoy. Not quite Draco, but it was over the boundary. Over the distance he had created with the names Anchor and Rose.</p><p>A flip switched again. Like everything he had just done came crashing over him like a tidal wave, soaking him in guilt.</p><p>The same as last time. Mirrored.</p><p>He stood up, sucked his teeth and straightened his black sweatshirt so it fell over his groin. It hit her that she had never touched him, she had never pleasured <em>him</em>. It was almost as if he was afraid of admitting he got hard over her—over someone <em>like</em> her. He was afraid of being wrecked by a Mudblood.</p><p>He looked down at her through hooded eyes, and Hermione felt herself shying. Almost like it had just dawned on her she was laying half-naked at the gaze of a Death-Eater. The gaze Draco.</p><p>Dear God what would Ginny think? And Ron, Harry, even Luna?</p><p>He stared at her for several seconds, his eyes dancing in the sockets, his skin coated in a layer of sweat.</p><p>"You're gonna fucking ruin me."</p><p>He disappeared upstairs and let a door slam behind him.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione leant against the wall beside the window, letting her wand twirl in her fingers.</p><p>The cold air from outside brushed against her bare skin, engulfing her like a hug. She didn't notice the goosebumps rising over her skin, though, as she was too busy peering down at her wand and inspecting it like it was an old book.</p><p>        </p><p>Hermione wanted to scoff as her nail tapped against the yellow jewel, which was now apparent as being a locket. It was suddenly appearing more orange and green beneath the natural light from outside. She had been so caught up in trying to figure out the wand's nature and origin, that she had overlooked the silver snake embezzled around the handle of the wand, bearing an emerald eye. It was almost identical to the one in Draco's ring, that Kreacher had taken.</p><p>
  <em>"Master Regulus had a ring exactly the same. It reminds Kreacher very much of his kind master."</em>
</p><p>It dawned on Hermione that Regulus must have used the ring to conjoin the locket to the elm wood. She wondered how she had never noticed before, or why Draco had never brought it up. It made Hermione's heart twinge, just slightly. There was an element of the Black family in her wand, and had been in Draco's ring. The ring she had convinced him to give away. She felt a <em>little</em> guilty.</p><p>Though, she had other things to worry about, clearly. Putting aside the fact Draco had made her scream for him on the dining table—she now possessed a Horcrux.</p><p>She had also silently been wondering what Regulus had meant by <em>"once I have poured the Drink of Despair poison on the wand to activate the charms." </em>in the last letter he had written to Kreacher.</p><p>And why he didn't make it out of the cave alive.</p><p>Hermione was smart, she was much smarter than she really knew. She knew of the Drink Of Despair, having researched it for a potions exam—It was also known more commonly known as the Emerald Potion. It induced fear, delirium, intense stomach pain and extreme thirst to whoever drank it. She was also smart enough to know it was most likely created by Tom Riddle himself. Tom Riddle invented many evil things to help him in his reign to power. Regulus was obviously just much smarter than him—he had used the Emerald Potion as an element in which <em>"activated the charms"</em> as Regulus had stated.</p><p>The charms—the black smoke while casting spells, the vibrations against her skin—maybe thats another reason the wand was so dangerously powerful. There were probably many charms on the wand that Hermione had yet to discover. Maybe it gave her the ability to apparate wherever she wanted to in the same way the Elder wand could. Maybe it could make her invisible or bring back the dead. The last two were unlikely. But there was more to the wand than she currently knew.</p><p>Elm wood, a basilisk fang core, a horcrux attached to the wood and being drenched with emerald potion? There was no wonder Regulus didn't make it out alive.</p><p>It was too powerful for even him to control.</p><p>Hermione pursed her lips together and continued to stare down at the wand in her hands. Her chest felt brazen as she shouldered the wall, feeling bile rising in her stomach.</p><p>She really should find Harry and Ron.</p><p>They would be looking for a Horcrux. She now had one that was impossible to destroy—yet could <em>do the destroying</em>, the killing, the protecting. At least that's what she assumed, from the hints given by Regulus in his letters to the house-elf.</p><p>But yet, she was apprehensive. What if leaving ruined everything? What if leaving would throw her back into her looming depression?</p><p>All she could think about was the black lake. How it engulfed her. How her toes curled against the grit on the bottom of the lake bed. <em>How she had literally tried to kill herself because she was so afraid of the war</em>.</p><p>Why did the wand choose her? It was meant to choose <em>Harry</em>. Everything always chose Harry. This was Harry's war. This was Harry's fight. It was always <em>him</em>—The prophecy, The Chamber, the Triwizard tournament...why <em>her</em> now, after all these years?</p><p>She turned and dropped the wand on the kitchen counter before pulling the window shut to block out the breeze ghosting in.</p><p>She almost didn't notice that Draco had entered the kitchen. He was slack in his silk pyjamas, face resting on the edge of still being asleep.</p><p>She hadn't spoken to him since he had stalked upstairs the day previous. Thus, the air felt slightly awkward around them—like either of them knew what to say.</p><p>"I—I think I should try and find Harry and Ron." Hermione said, her words tumbling out faster than she had intended them too. "To inform them about the locket—its—it's rather important."</p><p>Draco sneered and poured himself a glass of water. He looked at her with a squint before speaking through sips.</p><p>"And do you know <em>where</em> to find them?" His words were tainted with anger. Cruelness. Defensiveness; trying to cover up what he had done to her the day before.</p><p>Hermione paused, letting herself lean against the kitchen counter behind her.</p><p>"Well, not exactly—"</p><p>Draco scoffed, shaking his head. "Well then, how do you <em>expect</em> to find them?"</p><p>Hermione could feel the derision dripping from him like venom. From the way his finger tapped against the glass at his lips and the way his eyebrows were meeting in the middle of his forehead, she knew he was in the mood to be horrid.</p><p>"Oh stop being churlish, Malfoy." Hermione rolled her eyes, trying to tear them away from the sarcastic smirk tugging at Draco's lips. "I'm sure it won't be too hard."</p><p>"Churlish? Big word." Draco huffed, running his free hand through his hair. Hermione noticed he must have trimmed it, as the under-layers were much shorter than she had remembered. "I mean, I could always just apparate you to them, but then again, I don't want to."</p><p>Draco moved to the other side of the kitchen to rest his back against the fridge. His eyebrows were raised way higher than they should be. The ghost of light falling through the window engulfed him in a blue ambiance. He looked cold. Cruel. Yet...so titillating.</p><p>"Well, first I think I would check in wi—wait what did you say?" Hermione paused, her heart going flank in her chest. "You could take me—What do you mean?"</p><p>Draco let out a bitter laugh.</p><p>He stayed silent.</p><p>"You know where Harry and Ron are?" Hermione felt her cheeks turning very hot. "You fucking know <em>where</em> they are?"</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes again. "You know you've picked up an awful habit for explicative's, Granger."</p><p>Hermione scoffed and balled her hands into fists. She felt so confused and so furious that she couldn't help but let her fingernails press dainty crescent-moon indents into the skin on her palms.</p><p>"Why didn't you mention it, Malfoy?" She gawked. Her voice was quieter than she wanted it to be. She wanted to yell and scream and shout at him—but she could not.</p><p>
  <em>Harry and Ron.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her Best-Friends.</em>
</p><p>She wasn't sure how to feel about the possibility of seeing them again. So, naturally, she was in a state of worry and disbelief.</p><p>Did she want to see them? Did she want to pack up her little life from inside of Narcissa's safe-house and go back into the battle? No—truthfully. No.</p><p>Hermione loathed that fact she had become comfortable here. She loathed that she could <em>never</em> imagine not leaving Hogwarts, or running away from the war.</p><p>"I had more pressing matters on my mind, Granger." Draco shrugged, trying to present himself as being nonchalant about the entire situation, but Hermione could see his fingers twitching and the anger starting to bubble from his insides.</p><p>"Malfoy stop being a blithering idiot!" Hermione screeched, slamming a fist onto the counter. "What's your problem? What happened to our agreement about being honest? You knew where Harry and Ron where this entire time and you never even <em>thought to mention it</em>?"</p><p>"You never asked!" Draco yelled back, stalking forward to slam his glass onto the dining table. Hermione was surprised that it didn't shatter. "Why should I have told you? I thought you wanted to escape all of this? What fucking good could have come from it, huh, Granger?"</p><p>She bit her lip. Though he was right in some sense, she was still furious. It felt like a lie even though it technically wasn't one.</p><p>"I don't know, maybe you should have told me because my new wand is made from a <em>Horcrux</em>, which is what Harry and Ron are searching for!" She had stepped forward without realising it either. "Where are they? Where!"</p><p>There was only the dining table between them. Just sitting there, holding them apart. Like a metaphor for their unspoken boundaries, silently expecting one of them to smash through it.</p><p>Draco shook his head. He looked like was also in disbelief—like he was <em>confused</em> at her anger. But at the same time, he looked venomous, with his face contorted with a vicious sneer and furrowed brows.</p><p>"You want to know where they fucking are?" Draco somehow seemed to be looming over her, his broad frame casting a dark shadow over her from the other side of the table. "What? You're gonna go back to those cunts? Didn't <em>they</em> leave <em>you</em> by yourself in the first place?"</p><p>Hermione scoffed, feeling something twinge inside of her heart. Because once again—he was right. Harry and Ron had left her all by herself, what seemed like years ago—standing alone at the Burrow, as they slung their bags onto their backs, forbidding her to join them.</p><p>They said it was to 'protect her.' What good was that? They did it to 'keep her safe', but she had still flung herself into the Icy pits in the Black Lake. What sort of protection was <em>that</em>?</p><p>"And what if I did? What if I went back, what if i left?" Hermione countered, quirking an eyebrow and clenching her jaw. "Why would you care?"</p><p>Draco didn't answer. He stood silently, smoke emoting from every inch of his skin, layers and layers of anger drenching him like smog.</p><p>"Take me to them! Where are they?" She stomped her foot against the wooden floorboards.</p><p>She tried to think for a moment where they could be. It came to her quickly, and she felt a fool for not thinking of it sooner.</p><p>
  <em>"Or we could go to h—"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"We are not going to Grimmauld Place, Granger. End of story."</em>
</p><p>"Grimmauld Place." Hermione whispered, and she saw something inside of Draco's eyes crack with despair.</p><p>"You're not going." Draco said, his voice falling between enmity and jitter. "Don't go back to those cunts, Granger!"</p><p>He stepped over the boundary by crossing past the dining table. Hermione felt his body inches from her own before she could even process it.</p><p>"You—you can't!" He continued, gripping his hair as if he wanted to rip it from his scalp.</p><p>"And why not!" Hermione yelled back, hissing when she felt dismayed tears hilting in her eyes. "Why do you want to stop me so badly!"</p><p>He gripped her shoulders and slung her towards him, she stumbled over her feet and landed against his chest with a gentle thud.</p><p>He pushed her backwards as quickly as he pulled her forwards. Hermione almost laughed—because it was so explanatory of how Draco was. Back and forth. Pulling her towards him, pushing her away. Kissing her and making her come, then pushing her <em>far away from him</em>.</p><p>It was like a rubber band, constantly being tugged at, waiting to be snapped in half.</p><p>She was the rubber hand and he was tugging it. He wanted her but he didn't at the same time. He hated her but he <em>didn't</em>. He would continue to tug and tug and tug until she snapped.</p><p>"You can't fucking leave me you bitch!" Draco bellowed. His voice was so loud it almost sent shockwaves into Hermione's eardrums. "You dare!"</p><p>She had never heard anyone sound so...afraid.</p><p>Hermione choked back a scoff. Leave <em>him</em>?</p><p>"You're barking!" She shook her head and crossed her arms, trying to not let her rage crack through the seams. Trying to not snap. "Leave you? And why would you care, Malfoy? Aren't I just a <em>filthy Mudblood</em> to you?"</p><p>Draco reached forward and gripped her face in his hands. Her mind flooded with memories of the boathouse—how he had gripped her face and yelled at her for the first time. This time was the same. Expect, rather than unknown anger, it was familiar. A fit of familiar anger. One that Hermione was used to. One that Hermione didn't want to forget.</p><p>"You are." He nodded, his fingers digging into her cheeks, hard enough to make her whimper. "You are, you are, you are."</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to break away from his grasp but he dug his nails into her skin and pulled her back towards him.</p><p>"You are but—but—I <em>like</em> that," Her gulped down a knot in his throat. "If you go back to them...I won't—I won't have <em>my</em> filthy Mudblood anymore...you can't leave me here by my-fucking-self, Granger!"</p><p>He didn't sound angry anymore. He sounded broken.</p><p>"Malfoy?" Hermione looked up at him, his face was crinkled with indignation. The lines on his skin were suddenly much more prominent beneath the light seeping in through the window and his icy eyes were glossed over. His hands felt like snow on her cheeks, soft and tough and cold. "Malfoy—just calm down, okay?"</p><p>Hermione's hands moved up to wrap around his wrists, and she pulled his hands from her face. Instead, she tangled his fingers with own and let them drop between their bodies.</p><p>It was a dangerous move. Because it could have meant so many things. Yet, in this moment, all it meant was, <em>i'm not going anywhere.</em></p><p>He sucked a breath in through his nose, which shuddered throughout his body. "I have no one but <em>you</em>, Granger."</p><p>"I know." Hermione nodded, unconsciously rubbing her thumb over the top of his hand.</p><p>Hermione thought they must have looked ridiculous, standing hand in hand and face to face in the cold, dusty kitchen with nothing but the brittle cold light from outside ghosting over them.</p><p>They must have looked so broken—Like two broken pieces of glass trying to fit back into place.</p><p>"Write to them, instead." Draco's forehead fell against her own. His skin was tangy from his anger, but it melted against her skin.</p><p>She tried to not let herself think about what any of this could mean.</p><p>"Just—Just write to them...don't go yet, not yet." Draco's breath ghosted her eyelashes. "Not yet, Granger. The final blow isn't here yet—then—"</p><p>He gulped and brought one hand up to push a few curls from her ear with his fingers, before slotting his palm against the flank of her skull.</p><p>"Then we can part ways—" Hermione hated that he sounded so <em>sad</em>. It wasn't meant to be <em>sad</em>. Why would he be sad about leaving someone he didn't even like? "—But I don't think that it is that time yet."</p><p>Hermione nodded and gripped his hand even tighter.</p><p>"Okay, not yet."</p><p>—</p><p>Draco returned from his excursion at nightfall, exactly three hours after the sky had turned black.</p><p>He entered the dining room carrying a large Bengal eagle owl on his forearm. Hermione gawked at the animal for a moment, taking in its white feathers that were dotted with speckles of obsidian.</p><p>"In the name of Merlin! Where the hell did you find <em>that</em>?" Hermione was breathless as Draco sat opposite her at the dining table, pushing his arm forward so the owl jumped onto the ledge of the spare chair beside him.</p><p>It eyed Hermione, it's yellow eyes racing down her skin as if she were prey, it seemed skeptical and a little angry at first until it tilted its head and let out a happy hoot.</p><p>Draco looked at her, running his bottom lip along his mouth before speaking.</p><p>"Thats Molack." Draco stated, pulling off his long black trench-coat and setting in on the back of his chair. The Dark Mark on his forearm glimmered beneath the brittle yellow light from the chandelier above him. "It was the Owl my mother used every-time we came here. The last time I came here, when I was about fifteen, she had gifted it to an old lady who runs the pup north of Southwark. Luckily the lady still had her and remembered me, let me borrow her..."</p><p>Hermione felt her lips twitching at the sides as she leant forward and brushed a white feather with the back of her fingers. "She's beautiful."</p><p>Draco nodded stiffly. He still seemed rather tense following the blow they had earlier.</p><p>"Did you write the letter?" He asked, his head falling to the side to gaze at her just slightly. Hermione hated that she blushed when she caught the sparkle in his eye. "Let me see what you've written, then."</p><p>Hermione pursed her lips and slipped the parchment from the table and held it beneath the light.</p><p>"<em>H and R</em><em>. </em><br/><em>If you are still staying at 12 Grimmauld Place, then I hope this letter finds you rather safely. </em><br/><em>I, first of all, want to send you my best wishes—</em>"</p><p>Draco scoffed. "Best wishes? What are they? Your Grandparents?"</p><p>"Shut up!" She scowled and continued to read.</p><p>"<em>I am still angry at you for your decision to leave me behind to attend Hogwarts without you. And I hope you know that. When the time is right, I will meet with you in person, but for our safety during this war, I believe that to not be good idea just of yet—"</em></p><p>She cleared her throat and glanced at Draco to read his expression but he held no emotion on his face. He was still staring across at her like she was a prized jewel.</p><p>"<em>I know about your task to </em><em>and what you are hunting for. I </em><em>hope you are staying safe on that hunt. </em><br/><em>I want to inform you that I possess </em><b><em>one</em></b><em>, so you don't need to look for</em><br/><em>I will explain this in more detail when safe enough to see you. </em><br/><em>I'm not sure what you know of my whereabouts, but you may have heard I am no longer at Hogwarts. </em><br/><em>I am safe. I am happy.</em><br/><em>I will see you soon, stay safe and don't do something stupid, like getting yourself killed. </em><br/><em>— Hermione."</em></p><p>She put the parchment back onto the table and the owl began to squeak excitedly—like it hadn't been on a trip to deliver a letter in a rather long time.</p><p>"Seems good enough." Draco nodded, finally pulling his gaze from Hermione's face and scooping up the letter in his hands.</p><p>He tied it around Molack's left leg, before crossing to the window, whispering in the owl's ear, and letting her fly into the night sky. Hermione's fingers twitched nervously at the thought of Ron and Harry reading her letter.</p><p>Would they think she was weak for leaving Hogwarts? <em>If only they knew what she was going now. </em></p><p>"You know we could have just given that letter to Luna or Kreacher, right?" Hermione said as Draco moved to sit opposite her again, but not before pouring two glasses of Fire-Whiskey.</p><p>"I know." Draco shrugged, pushing a glass across to land in-front of Hermione. "But I kind of wanted an excuse to see Molack, she was always a helpful animal to me."</p><p>It was silent for several minutes. Draco drank quietly, quickly finishing one glass in the space it took Hermione to drink a quarter of her own.</p><p>Like always, the tension around them was thick and remorseful. Draco clearly was at a lack of words, like he had spoken too much or too little the entire day. Hermione knew he was tired, it was obvious in the dark circles beneath his eyes and in the cracks on his forehead.</p><p>"I'm still rather angry that you never brought it up before now, Malfoy." Hermione said, fingering the thread on the sleeve of her jumper.</p><p>"I have no idea if they are still there or not, Luna mentioned it briefly to her father one day and I overheard." Draco sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not that big of a deal."</p><p>"It is for me. It's Harry and Ron. You should know what my relationship is like with them." Hermione yapped, trying to not let herself grow angry in the way she did hours previously.</p><p>Draco prodded the inside of his cheek with his tongue and sniffed. Something had shifted between them, he suddenly appeared more sinister beneath the yellow light.</p><p>"And <em>you know</em> my relationship with Blaise, Pansy and Theo." Draco retorted, leaning forward to rest his elbows against the table. "Yet <em>you</em> still haven't told <em>me</em> why you were whispering with Luna about Blaise in the grass by her house."</p><p>Hermione froze.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>.</p><p>How could she have forgotten? How could she let it slip her mind? She wanted to punch herself like an elf would. She had reminded herself multiple times to ask Draco what he knew of his mother's death and why he was so sure it was Blaise Zabini that had been the hand in her murder. Hermione knew it would rot inside of her if she didn't eventually let him know what Luna had told her...but she had become so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she had completely forgotten to expose it.</p><p>Her mouth had gone dry. She needed time to collect her words, she needed time to think of questions and theories and responses. But Draco had caught her out when she's had least expected it.</p><p>"Malfoy I—" She paused, took a deep breath and pulled her fingers away from the thread. "I'm sorry you overhead. How much did you hear?"</p><p>"Not much, just Luna's voice saying something about Blaise. My mothers name too." He said, his chest slumping slightly. "That's all. I was hoping it would've been nothing I didn't already know, but from your reaction right now, it seems as though you definitely are hiding something from me."</p><p>Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Malfoy, what do you know of your mother's death?"</p><p>He cocked an eyebrow up and sneered. "I know that Blaise killed her."</p><p>Hermione nodded and gulped. She felt so nervous, because this was Narcissa Malfoy they were talking about. Draco's <em>mother</em>. He had never even said it and Hermione knew she had been the most valuable thing to him.</p><p>"Did you witness her death?" She tried to keep her words steady. She hadn't noticed Draco's leg beneath the table wrapping around her own. "Did you <em>actually</em> see it happen?"</p><p>Draco paused and studied Hermione's features. His blue eyes were pooling in the yellow light, twinging with an unknown characteristic Hermione could not place.</p><p>"No." He said point-blank. "I was stationed for another task at the time. I got called back by my father, who told me what had happened."</p><p>Hermione nodded, pulling her eyes away from his torn face to stare at her fingers. She wasn't sure if she could handle staring at him while tears began to spring in his eyes.</p><p>"And, what—what did he say had happened?" Hermione asked again, her voice still struggling to stay monotone.</p><p>Draco didn't reply. He was silent, deadly silent. All Hermione could hear was the soft patter of rain against the window behind her and the crackle of the fire in the living room beside them.</p><p>"You can tell me, <em>Draco</em>." Hermione said it before she could i think about the implications of using his first name. She never used his first name.</p><p>Not Malfoy, not Anchor, Draco.</p><p>She was worried about his reaction for a second, but as she peered at him and watched the lines on his forehead dissolve and his fists uncurl; she knew that being called Draco was actually what he needed right now.</p><p>He needed her to step over the boundaries. He needed <em>connection</em>.</p><p>He then spoke like a loaded gun whose trigger had been pulled. "My mother well, she, before my father, she loved another man. He was called Jospeh. Joseph Lewis. And well, he...he was a Muggle."</p><p>Hermione struggled to believe him, but the way his lips twitched with happiness made her trust his words. They twitched at the memory of his mother being in love and for that, she couldn't not believe him.</p><p>"I didn't mention it before but, it was one of the reasons she moved here in the first place. So she could have somewhere to love him and feel safe. There were hundreds of pictures of them together, she had stuffed them under her bed when he died of cancer and i found them as a child. She wasn't happy that i found them. She promised me to never tell. But somehow, The Dark Lord found out and he wanted to punish her."</p><p>Draco's eyes were wet with tears.</p><p>"I'm assuming he found out using occlumency. When he found out, he told the others; Bellatrix and The Carrows and so on. They all wanted to banish her. I don't know why her loving a muggle such a long time ago would make The Dark Lord want her to <em>die</em>. But it did. He set one of his new, young disciples to kill her."</p><p>He paused again and took a deep breath.</p><p>Hermione couldn't help but let her mind wander. It seemed like a bizarre story, told by Lucius. She couldn't help but wonder if Lucius was the one who had found out about her love to a muggle man and—</p><p>She didn't even want to assume it.</p><p>"He asked Blaise. Probably a way to torment <em>me</em> as well, maybe he questioned if I was really Lucius son, if i was really Pure-Blood. He used my Best-friend as a ploy for my demise."</p><p>Hermione sucked a breath through her nose and spoke with caution. "Luna is certain Blaise <em>didn't</em> kill him."</p><p>Draco flinched.</p><p>"He visits the Lovegood's too, just like you, Adrian as well but he's not important—she says he would never do that—that he's <em>good</em>."</p><p>Draco shook his head, a tear flung from his eye and landed beside Hermione's glass on the table. </p><p>"Stop Granger." He said, his voice wavering. "Please stop—don't believe anything that blonde bimbo says to you—please.</p><p>"Draco..."</p><p>He sucked his teeth and slid his chair backwards. He stood, and pushed it furiously so that it slammed against the table and made Hermione flinch.</p><p>"Don't get my fucking hopes up, Granger!" He was crying. Hermione had only ever seen him crying when he was being a coward at school, but now, he was crying because he was being torn in half by confusion. "Please, Hermion—just, just don't believe things you don't know."</p><p>He crossed to the living room and grasped his sketchbook in his hands. Hermione had not seen it for what felt like weeks. He ripped a page out from the leather binding and stumbled back like he was dazed.</p><p>"You believe Luna? You think my mother died another way?" He was laughing while he cried. He looked like he was drawing into insanity. "How else would he have died? You think it was Bellatrix? Her sister? Or the Carrows—"</p><p>He laughed sharply and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "—Even better, you think it was my father!"</p><p>Hermione shook her head and stood. She tried to grasp his shoulders in her hands but he shook her away.</p><p>He pushed the sketch against her chest and disappeared into the hallway.</p><p>"We are going to the Lovegood's tomorrow, if they aren't there, then the next day, then the next, then the next." He had turned to yell down the hallway before he descended up the stairs. "You better not be lying, Granger."</p><p>He paused like he wanted to say something else, something deeper, something important, but he shook his head and muttered. "Fuck you, Hermione."</p><p>Hermione sighed with regret. She really should have found out the truth before bringing it up. Because now it was another thing for her to worry about.</p><p>She stared down at the sketch in her hands—Hermione couldn't help but gasp.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Twenty-Two.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sketch in Hermione's hand trembled beneath the light as she stared down at it. She couldn't help but chew the inside of her cheek as she inspected it, trying to decipher what it could mean.</p><p>Because for once—it wasn't a depiction of her death.</p><p>Instead it was a rose, a beautiful rose shaded to perfection, with large petals twisting together. The rose was conjoined to an anchor. The ropes holding the anchor were wrapping around the base of the rose, interlinking them. Merging them as one thing.</p><p>Hermione wasn't an idiot. She could assume what it meant.</p><p>Was this Draco's way of saying he didn't hate her as much as he did? Was this his way of telling her she had some sense of importance in his life?</p><p>Possibly. Or it could've just been nothing but a sketch. Nothing but a drawing with no meaning. Maybe it was just another way to confuse her, to riddle her in peacefulness just so he could tear her armistice to shreds when he pleased to.</p><p>And of course, beneath the writing was the familiar handing writing; <em>Anchor and Rose.</em></p><p>Hermione smiled and folded the paper, placing it in her back pocket.</p><p>        </p><p>—</p><p>
  <em>Hermione woke to the sound of water trickling against rocks and the gentle patter of waves in the distance.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It took her a moment to open her eyes, feeling as though it was almost painful to do so. As if her eyelids were made from led, pulling at the seams of her skin painfully and making her hiss when she finally opened them all the way.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She was laying in a heap on the floor—but the floor wasn't floorboards or concrete. It was large plaits of crystal, jagged and rough, digging into her flesh uncomfortably. And they were bright, a luminous white colour. She had to blink repeatedly to get used to the light, before she finally dragged herself up from the cold crystals beneath her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Where the fuck was she? This was not the safe house. This was not Hogwarts or even her family home in Hampstead. While squinting into the darkness, she suddenly realised that this was a cave.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A huge cave, in fact. With pointed rocks falling across the slanted ceiling. Around her was a bed of water, it was completely still, minus the small trickles brushing against the crystals she was standing on. Completely peaceful.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then, she realised she wasn't alone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There was two figure's on the other side of the crystal island, both hunched over something, cast beneath a dark shadow.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Hello?" Hermione whispered, reaching for her wand in her pocket only to find it wasn't there.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The figures did not look up at her, nor did they flinch at her voice echoing throughout the cave.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Could they not see her? Could they not hear her? Evidently, they couldn't.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Excuse me?" She said again, stepping towards them. She noticed one was not human, yet an elf. Beneath the shadow, she could see a long droopy nose and floppy ears, with withered skin wrinkling beneath the light from the crystals.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Kreacher?" Hermione asked, but to no surprise, the house-elf did not respond.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When the elf flinched at something the other figure murmured, it's face was torn into the light. It was fact, Kreacher. He looked a little younger, but not massively youthful. He still appeared broody and callous and even somewhat frightened—in the exact way he had been when Hermione had revealed her wand to him in the Lovegood family home.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It quickly dawned on her where she was. The cave in which the wand was finalised. The cave in which Regulus had died. But why was she here? Why was she back in another memory? Didn't these end? Maybe Regulus had planned this, or maybe he had miscalculated something along the way.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Because she had seen him die for the second time when his body turned to smoke on the rock in the sea. She pursed her lips, trying to not let herself become overwhelmed with confusion and continued to step towards him. She stumbled on slacks of crystal, having to steady herself by holding onto the planks that stood upright. She noticed one plank held a shell, full of black liquid.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Kreacher, quickly, grab me the drink of despair."</em>
  <br/>
  <em>The other figure, which Hermione assumed to be Regulus, whispered. "Quickly now quickly!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione took a quick glance at Regulus' face and felt tears pricking in the sockets. He did not look like the boy she had met on the rock, with full cheeks, long curly hair and shimmering green eyes. For he was only eighteen, even younger than she was now, but he looked older. Much older. He looked overworked, his black hair pulled into bunches and his what had been soft skin, tormented with dirt and wrinkles and lines of stress. He looked ruined, and most of all, riddled with Dark Magic. She could smell it, ghosting through her nose, the putrid smell of evil and contortion and death.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He had ruined himself to create the wand. He had ruined himself at a mere chance of being able to ruin Voldemort himself. At this moment, Hermione could only think of his bravery.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Kreacher stop standing there! Grab me the potion, please!" Regulus raised his voice, and Kreacher scrambled.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione glanced down and to no surprise, saw the wand laying on a mat on-top of the crystals. It looked exactly as it did now, apart from the fact the black wood was a mere tawny brown. Regulus began prodding at it, like he was inspecting it but almost afraid to touch it. Like it burnt his skin.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Sorry Master, right away, my kind Master." Kreacher was already stumbling across to where Hermione stood, and then he was grasping the shell in his tiny hands. They trembled so much Hermione thought the potion was going to spill, but he successfully scrambled over to where Regulus was crouched and set the shell beside the wand.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I need to drench the wand in the potion." Regulus spoke. Kreacher nodded. "But from what I have learnt, for the charms to activate—"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Kreacher gasped and threw his hands over his ears like he didn't want Regulus to continue speaking.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You promised you wouldn't!" Kreacher said, his voice hissing. "Master you said you wouldn't dare to use that kind of magic here!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Regulus waved his hand in dismissal and pluck the wand up from where it lay on the mat. Kreacher was murmuring something, but Regulus was choosing not to listen.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"—I need to inhale the potion after the wand is complete." Regulus finished, and he twisted the wand in his fingers before laying it flat in the seashell.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The seashell was just the right size for the wand to fit perfectly inside, and it disappeared beneath the black potion.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Nothing happened.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Regulus was shivering, Hermione noticed his clothes were damp.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He cleared his throat and held his existing wand towards the seashell. Draco had been right, his wand was black with a silver handle. The black wood was engraved with symbols, letters and shapes. The same symbols and shapes Hermione had spotted tattooed onto his fingers in the last memory.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Praesidium pythonissam" Regulus whispered, and a thin trickle of silver thread left the tip of his wand and stretched out and fell into the potion. He then turned his wand to his hand and cut a thin line across his palm, blood tricked into the potion. Hermione watched nervously, but nothing happened other than the water bubbling ever so slightly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>praesidium pythonissam. Hermione knew vaguely of this spell. It was a protection spell—but not one they would ever be taught within the boundaries of Hogwarts. It was a Dark Protection spell, blood magic. It created a promise, a clear fine cut line to set the occupant of the object, in this case the wand. From her knowledge, it translated to 'Protection Witch.' Moreover, meaning, 'Protect the witch.'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione had known little of how Regulus knew the wand would choose her. Or why the wand would choose a Witch in general. How could he possibly have predicted that? Now, it was clear. He had made that definite with this spell. He had written it into the stars using a bond between his wand and the new wand.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione running away from the war was always inevitable—she would have ended up in Narcissa's safe house one way or the other.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She had almost become too content with her thoughts that she nearly didn't hear Regulus whispering another spell.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Princeps potestatis."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Unleash the power.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>This time, the spell did more than making the potion bubble. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It exploded in flames, pushing Kreacher's small body off his feet and sending him into the water. Regulus cried out and strained, holding onto a plank of crystals to steady himself.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Everything had suddenly turned chaotic. Hermione could do nothing but stand there and watch. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The cave erupted in flames, burning and searing through the hallow space, falling against the water and catching that on fire too.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione turned his stare back towards Regulus, who was falling back as the flames grew higher and higher, circling around him like he was prey. Within the flames, she could see faces. Faces made of molten Lava, evil and cruel.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Bellatrix Lestrange—Her much younger face was ghosting through the flames, her black hair taking the form of smoke. "They will find out about this one day, traitor!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And then, Sirius Black, his eyes made from Wildfire. "Brother, brother, don't leave your older brother, don't be selfish, all for revenge on the dark lord?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A face she didn't recognise, but she quickly assumed to be Druella Black. "You have shamed your mother! You have shamed her! What will she think? What will she do?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They were all speaking in the third person. Taunting him, trying to convince him he was wrong. That he was a traitor against The Dark Lord.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It hurt Hermione that he died feeling guilty for his actions. Because he shouldn't have felt guilty. He should've been proud. Hermione viewed him as a Hero.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione held her arm over her face to block out the blaze of the flames as they neared the island of crystals.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She watched Regulus close his eyes and struggle to take a deep breath within the smoke.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He looked frightened. He looked scared. For he was just a boy, just a child. For a moment, Hermione saw the ghost of Draco's face within his eyes. The face Draco made when he was begging Hermione not to leave him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No child should have to do this. No child should have to sacrifice themselves in the name of Tom Riddle.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She watched Regulus stumble forwards and rip the wand out from beneath the potion. He screamed as it burnt his skin. The brown wood was now black, like she knew it. He then leaned forward and tipped the black potion down his throat in one go. He was determined. He wouldn't let anything stop him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She watched Regulus turn back in terror, his young face screaming as Kreacher was pulled into the water by what Hermione quickly recognised to her the Inferi. The Inferi were corpses; dead bodies that have been bewitched to do a Dark wizard's bidding. Inferi had not been seen for a long time, not since Voldemort was last powerful... He killed enough people to make an army of them, so they would kill when it was necessary.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Kreacher! Apparate! You're an elf! Apparate!" Regulus screamed, his voice just about audible over the sound of the roaring flames beginning to circle around him, slowing closing in. Regulus then stumbled to the edge of the crystals and put the wand into Kreacher's hand. "Take this to Narissa's safe house! Take it!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Kreacher grabbed it before his hands fell beneath the water.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Master—" His words fumbled away when the water poured into his mouth.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione could feel the heat of the flames, but she did not fear it, for this was just a dream. Just a memory. Yet, when she looked down at Kreacher's terrified tiny body being dragged beneath the water by mountains of skinny white arms, she found herself screaming too, even though he could not hear her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Apparate!" Hermione yelled, nobody heard her, they couldn't.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Kreacher's head was almost underneath the water that was lit in flames before his body disappeared with a crack.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It had dawned on Hermione he had waited until the last few moments, struggling against the Inferi, in a brittle attempt to make it over to his master and grip is arm, so he could apparate him with him back to safety.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione knew that wouldn't have worked. She could feel the evil anti-wizarding apparition spells lingering in the air. Enough to stop the help of Elf-Magic.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And then there was nothing. It almost turned silent, just a brittle ringing in Hermione's ears.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She could do nothing but watch Regulus' boyish face turn in pain as the flames engulfed him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Regulus cried out in pain as his body turned ember. He threw himself into the water, but it was no good. It could not save him. He knew that. He knew he was going to die.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione watched as the arms of the inferi grasped his skinny body as dragged him beneath the surface of the water. And when he was gone, everything went still.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The flames died. Like they were never there. Like they had never existed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione hated that, that it was as if Regulus had not sacrificed himself at all. And that was how people knew it. Blank. Nobody knew what Regulus had done to try and save everyone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She would make sure they knew one day.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione felt like crying but she couldn't cry. Because this was a dream. A memory.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She wanted to cry when she smelt flesh. Burning and rotting. It dawned on her—this wasn't a new memory. It was the one she had dreamt and forgotten months ago—she was just reliving it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione thought that it should be time for her to wake up. But she didn't. Her feet still sat against the crystal island. She stood there in complete silence, knowing that Regulus was drowning beneath the surface of the water and there was nothing she could have done about it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She stood there and pressed a hand to her sternum to control her breaths as the smell of rotting flesh warped over her, coating her in a thick layer of death.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Granger..." Someone was talking in the distance, their voice was young and smooth.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Hermione..." It was getting closer, calling upon her like she was prey.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Hermione, you're okay, you're okay, it's okay." She turned and saw Draco, standing on the crystal planks.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His face was so young and pure. How it had been at Hogwarts. So full of life and colour and void of any dark magic, pain and grief.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What was Draco doing in this memory?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He stepped closer to her, as if he was drifting over the crystals and grasped her face in his hands.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Hermione you're okay." He said again, his voice sounding rather lucid. His touch felt so real, so warm and content. Needed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her hands wrapped around his wrists and gripped them. She didn't want to let him go.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"We have to go," He said, tugging at her. "Let's go, Granger."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But he did not walk—instead they dropped through the crystals into the abyss, falling and falling and falling with no end.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione screamed and screamed and screamed until she opened her eyes and realised she was back in the safe-house.</em>
</p><p>She was still screaming when her eyes fully flung open, her hands shaking at her sides, one of them wrapped tightly around her wand.</p><p>Draco was leaning over her, his face so close that his nose was brushing against her own. She didn't even realise his hands were on her face, his soft fingers brushing against the skin on her temple, because she was staring into his eyes. They were almost black, rooted with fear and concern.</p><p>She looked at them until her breathing went straight.</p><p>"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice hushed.</p><p>"I'm okay..." She nodded. "B-bad dream."</p><p>And then, he snapped. He ripped his hands from her face and turned on his heels. Hermione was lying down so she couldn't see what was happening, but she heard Draco pattering across the room and yelling at someone she couldn't see.</p><p>"What did you do, you stupid blittering elf!"</p><p>Hermione gasped and sat upright, trying to ignore the thudding in her head. To her surprise, Kreacher and Luna were sitting at the dining table. She couldn't let her stare linger against Luna's sad expression, or the tangles in her curly hair, or the scars on her umber face because Draco was gripping Kreacher by the front of his rugged gown, pulling him upwards towards his face.</p><p>"Draco!" Luna gasped, jumping from the chair to try and help the elf, who was dangling in the air. "Put him down at once!"</p><p>Draco sneered at her but dropped Kreacher to the ground, where Hermione heard his knees crack. Instead, Draco crouched, leaning over Kreacher who was laying back on the floor holding his head.</p><p>Hermione felt too dazed to really process what was really going on.</p><p>Luna at the dining table, with Kreacher on the floor and Draco looming over him with a furious glare ridden on his features.</p><p>"What's going on—"</p><p>"Listen here you stupid elf! What the fuck did you do to her!" He yelled, spitting into Kreacher's face with rage. "Why was she screaming like that! What did you <em>do</em>!"</p><p>"Kreacher just—" The old elf paused, looking up at Draco with a little fear in his large eyes. "—Kreacher wanted to show The Mudblood, sir, that Master Regulus died for the wand—And that he died scared, sir—"</p><p>Draco scoffed and shook the elf so hard Hermione heard his bones creaking. "You think she knew that? You think that it's her fault Regulus killed himself for revenge against the Dark Lord?" </p><p>Hermione stood and shuffled over to the heap of anger on the floor, she carefully rested her hand on Draco's shoulder. He flinched at the contact, before glancing up at her and once again, letting his fist uncurl from Kreacher's gown.</p><p>"Kreacher just wanted the Mudblood to feel guilty for my Master's death, sir, I saw him going toward death, sir, I just wanted the Mudblood to see in the same way as I did, sir." Kreacher paused. "You is kind Miss' son, forgive me."</p><p>Draco scoffed and rose, shrugging Hermione's hand from his shoulder as he fell against the chair beside Luna, who was looking left and right at every face in the room with confusion ridden into her features.</p><p>Hermione joined Draco at the table. Her fingers were still twitching from her dream, and the faint smell of flesh still remained in her nose.</p><p>"I've already seen his death, Kreacher." Hermione spoke. Although she could not remember it well last time, she had still seen it. Now, it was just four times more vivid and cruel and exhausting. "It was very unkind for you to do that to me."</p><p>Kreacher visibly shivered and nodded his head. He pulled himself from the floor with a hiss, but guided himself up onto the chair one more.</p><p>Hermione felt awfully strange. She was so used to it just the two of them at the table. The home which had been possessed by Narcissa Malfoy had easily become her safe-haven. And even though she shared it with someone everyone considered to be the enemy, it was her safe-haven. Hers for her to love and feel gratitude for. Because In some sense—it had saved her. Since arriving here, she had begun to forget about her anxiety, for a while. Though it was still there, it had shifted. It wasn't anxiety about Hogwarts and her friends and the War; it was about her wand, Draco and everything in-between. In reality, Hermione knew she had become way too adjusted to sitting in the safe-house hating Draco, and him hating her. She felt almost torn between uncomfortablilty and warmth at the new faces sitting in her safe-haven.</p><p>Even if one had just tortured her in her sleep.</p><p>"Now now, there is no use crying over spilled potions, is there?" Luna interjected, cutting the tension in the air by beaming a bright smile across her warm face.</p><p>Hermione could still see Draco glaring at the elf opposite him with his jaw clenching in time with his ragged breaths, but the tension in his shoulders had loosened, ever so slightly, and he slid his leg against Hermione's underneath the table.</p><p>It was silent for several seconds. Hermione tried to not focus on Draco's heavy breathing and instead on the patters of rain falling against the window. Her mind was reeling, sticking between memories from the dream—Regulus being dragged beneath the water, his screaming, the smell of flesh—to the ideology of sitting in a room with Draco Malfoy, Kreacher the elf and Luna Lovegood.</p><p>It was all bizarre.</p><p>"Why are you guys here?" Hermione asked. "And what time is it? Have I been sleeping all day?"</p><p>Luna turned to face her, her cheeks catching the glow of the firelight. "Draco came to ask me about..."</p><p>She paused and took a tentative glance at Draco, but he wasn't paying her any attention, his eyes were drawn against Hermione's face, still twinkling like they had done the day before.</p><p>"...About Blaise. But I told him it wasn't reasonable to speak about it around my father. I suggested a cafe, but he said was too risky..."</p><p>Hermione flinched at the memory of the incident in Greenwich. When she thought about it, she could still feel the Dark Magic lingering in the base of her heart, where it had festered. But it didn't torment her like it had before. She was accustomed. It hadn't made her evil, just stronger.</p><p>"Kreacher was visiting Mr Lovegood for some potions to heal—" Kreacher spoke, but Luna kicked him beneath the table and his lips flayed shut.</p><p>"Kreacher hurt his finger, he wanted a healing potion from my father. Elves aren't great with healing." Luna said, her lips forming into a thin line. Hermione glanced towards Kreacher's small hands, but there was no sign of injury, just the oversized ring on his pointer finger. It had visibly been shrunken down to fit, but still shimmered beneath the yellow light above the table. "So he came with us, wanted to see his old home once more."</p><p>Kreacher growled beneath his breath, and continued to shy away from Draco's gawk.</p><p>"Sir Draco does nots look like Narcissa anymore." Kreacher whispered, his head shaking just slightly which caused his droopy nose to wiggle. "Nows his hair is different, he looks like the mean sir who was horrid to Miss Narcissa."</p><p>Draco huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. The sleeves of his black button-up were rolled, exposing his arms. The skin around his mark seemed red and irritated, and Hermione assumed that he had been removing the trace at the Lovegood home. "Keep my fathers name out of your mouth, elf."</p><p>Kreacher nodded and looked down. Hermione latched the words '<em>the mean sir who was horrid to Miss Narcissa</em>' into her brain to examine another day.</p><p>Draco didn't speak again for a while.</p><p>"It's still rather early so you were still sleeping, you seemed fine until Kreacher asked to look at your wand, he put it into your hand when we weren't looking and then you begun to stir, and then started to scream." Luna told her, placing a warm hand against her forearm. "I'm sorry."</p><p>Hermione shook her head. This wasn't about <em>her</em>, this was about Blaise, Draco and Narcissa. This was about finding out the true intentions of Draco's friends, because if Blaise was really pure, was Theo and Pansy? Hermione hadn't heard a whisper about them, other than the day they had seen them in the snowy field, but then again, they had stopped reading the Daily Prophet. Draco tended to read his poetry book by Emily Brontë instead. Over and over and over, scanning each page for over several minutes. Hermione assumed the Daily Prophet often spoke about The War, about Harry and Voldemort and even maybe herself. But she didn't want to read it, not anymore. She had become so comfortable shutting herself out it was almost tempting to make it permanent.</p><p>Hermione changed the subject away from herself as quickly as it came. "Luna, please tell Draco what you know of Blaise."</p><p>Draco snorted and rolled his eyes into the back of his head. He seemed rather agitated, his eyes shooting from the house-elf to Luna to Hermione to the floor, over and over again like he'd rather be anywhere but here.</p><p>"Well, I guess there is no use beating around the bush, is there?" Luna smiled, placing her hands over one another on the table. "Blaise came a few days ago to remove the trace. I'm sorry I never told you about that, Draco, my father gave me strict orders not to."</p><p>Draco huffed and drew his hand through his hair quickly before letting it fall back across his chest.</p><p>"And well, when my father slipped from the room to water the plums, I asked him, point-blank, did he kill Narcissa Malfoy?" Draco flinched. "And while I already assumed the answer, he seemed awfully shocked and said no. He seemed very taken-aback, like he had never heard of that rumour."</p><p>Hermione pursed her lips together. "Well, how does everyone think Narcissa died then? Why is it <em>just</em> Draco who thinks it was Blaise?"</p><p>Draco's lips twitched when she used his first name. Understandably.</p><p>"I'm not quite sure. He spluttered out about how he had heard of your mother's death, at the Manor, but his father kept him concealed for a while, while everything calmed down. His father is a nasty man, Hermione, i'm sure you know it, Draco." Draco gave a stiff nod. "And while you think a dirigible plum doesn't float away from the bush, Blaise is nothing of the sort. Me and Blaise have become rather close friends. He spoke about you often, constantly asking me if I had seen you or where you had run to. I couldn't tell him the truth, my father would've killed me. And then yesterday he came crying and crying and crying clutching a Daily Prophet. And well—"</p><p>
  <em>"Draco Malfoy is being heavily sought after by Theodore Nott and the rest of Voldemort's fresh-faced recruits. He may be using a false name or appearance changing charms but Theodore Nott claims he will be giving a million Gallons to any witch or wizard who can locate him—"</em>
</p><p>"The paper about Theo and Pansy?" Hermione asked, and Luna nodded slowly. "I thought as much."</p><p>Draco still remained silent. Unmoving, blankly staring at the table like his head was going to explode from the information being fed to him. Hermione didn't blame him Luna's words were like a loose canon, she tended to ramble on and on about things. Kreacher sat blankly in his chair, still clutching his head where it had thumped against the ground during Draco's rage.</p><p>"He was in shock that Theo and Pansy were partaking in <em>that</em>. He kept <em>saying 'We are best-friends, we have always best-friends what happened to us</em>?'" Luna looked sadly down at her hands. "I think he's also in shock, once his father left their home to return to the Dark Lord, he ran too. He isn't understanding anything very well. But Draco, he did not kill your mother. I think you were silly to believe your father's lie."</p><p>"Right." Draco nodded slowly. "Fucking great."</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes and scowled at him. She didn't quite understand his tone of voice, or why he seemed so angry.</p><p>"Isn't this a good thing?" Hermione said, her voice full of disbelief. "Aren't you happy one of your friends isn't the cause of your mother's death?"</p><p>Draco laughed so loudly and abruptly, that Luna's hand flew up to her chest in shock.</p><p>"Happy? <em>Happy</em>?" He cocked his head to the side, a vicious smirk growing on his lips. "Oh! I'm so fucking happy that my father is covering up the real story of which my mum fucking <em>died</em>!"</p><p>Kreacher still rubbed his head but let his eyes linger between the three of them apprehensively. He opened his mouth to speak but Draco shot him such an evil glare he closed it and looked away once more.</p><p>"Ah Draco, while I was at Grimmauld place Molack came." Luna quickly changed the subject. Hermione questioned how Luna would know the name of Narcissa's owl but didn't let the thought linger for too long. "I'm sorry but Harry and Ron are no longer there."</p><p>Hermione felt her heart sink just slightly.</p><p>"I assume that was who it was addressed to. H and R, right? I told Molack their new location, which is, well—they didn't tell me <em>exactly</em>—but Molack seems rather smart so she should be able to find them."</p><p>"Kreacher is not happy with the new guests at Grimmauld place—"</p><p>Luna kicked him beneath the table again and whispered. '<em>Shut up you blithering idiot!</em>' before scrambling to her feet.</p><p>New guests? Who the hell could be staying at the original home of the Order? And why would Kreacher not like them? Hermione pursed her lips and tried to watch any sort of emotion crack on Draco's face, but it remained masked—his eyes still staring at the table like he hadn't even heard what Kreacher had said.</p><p>"We should go." Luna said quickly, grabbing her Satchel from the space by her feet and jumping up. She crossed the dining table and grabbed Kreacher by the arm, pulling him beside her with a tint of annoyance in her limbs. Luna put a hand on Draco's shoulder for a brief moment.</p><p>"Blaise misses you. He wants to talk, he wants to <em>really</em> talk. I'll send him your regards."</p><p>Draco still didn't speak, but he shot Luna a small smile and a nod before Kreacher disapparated them from the safe-house with no real goodbye.</p><p>Hermione took a deep breath, trying to control her emotions. She couldn't worry about <em>herself</em> right now. This wasn't about <em>her</em>. She was tired of everything being about her. At first, she had run away because she was tired of everything being about <em>Harry</em>, and her anxiety towards the war that was going on. But since arriving here, everything was about <em>her</em>. The wand, her nightmares. Everything.</p><p>Hermione took one small glance at Draco over the table and saw his shoulders slump. She was torn on what to do. Should she try and comfort him? Try and tell him everything was going to be okay? Because that's certainly not what Draco did when she tried to express her own emotions months ago. He had shot her down, insulted her.</p><p>Luckily, Draco silently told her what to do with one gentle glance towards her. His eyes were glossed over, and his fingers were twitching just slightly where he had placed them against the table. The twinge in his eyes told her, <em>'I need some time alone.'</em></p><p>And she understood that. How else was someone meant to react when discovering the details behind the death of the person most loyal to them had been <em>false</em>? </p><p>Hermione nodded and headed for the shower.</p><p>—</p><p>When Hermione returned to the living room, she was slightly taken aback to see Draco huddled in <em>her</em> usual spot on the sofa, his legs curled to his chest and his book rested on his knees. He was scanning the pages intently, his index finger tracing the lines as he read. Hermione simply stood and watched him for what felt like several minutes, but really was only three. She shouldered the door and <em>watched him</em>—She watched how his eyes glimmered at certain parts of the poem and how his lips twitched at the edges when he started a new page.</p><p>Hermione remembered that she hadn't seen him look peaceful in a long time. But right then, as his skin bodied the flare of the fireplace, his eyes filling with shades of orange and red with trickles of ice around his iris, he looked pure.</p><p>"If your gonna keep standing there like a stalker, then fuck off." Draco said, though it wasn't malicious like the last time he had said the near-exact same sentence at the Wonky hotel. "Sit down, Hermione."</p><p>Hermione cleared her throat and crossed the room towards the sofa. She lingered for a moment, torn between sitting in the armchair or beside Draco, but he tapped the space beside him, so she sat.</p><p>He felt warm. Warmer than he had felt in a long time. He had changed into his silk pyjamas, exposing the flesh around his collarbones and his feet were clad in what seemed to be sleeping-socks, black and fuzzy. Hermione felt a strange sensation in reaction to his shoulder brushing against her own, but then she just realised that's what familiarity felt like.</p><p>She wondered how long <em>this</em> mood would last.</p><p>Hermione sighed and spoke so quietly she wondered if Draco could even hear her. "I'm sorry, by the way, that you had to give away your ring."</p><p>Draco closed the book on his knees and slid it onto the arm of the chair. Hermione felt him looking down at her from her side, and she felt a tinge of rose blushing at her cheeks.</p><p>"You should be." He said, his voice merged with playfulness and seriousness all at once. "It was a Black Family heirloom. My father <em>loathed</em> the thing, always told me to swap it for the Malfoy one he wore, but it was rather chunky and brutish."</p><p>Hermione felt his hand sliding behind her neck to rest on the head of the sofa. His forearm gazed at the back of her skull, pushing against her damp curls.</p><p>"It was a little bit of my mother." He said sadly, Hermione peered up at him and saw his bottom lip sticking out in a childish way. "Rather expensive too, you mind, the rings were made in the tenth century by goblins, goblin-made silver is rather hard to come by."</p><p>Ah, so the silver snake on her wand would also be goblin-made, then. Hermione folded the information to the back of her mind to inspect another day.</p><p>Hermione felt a twinge of sadness in her heart and didn't think before leaning her head down against Draco's shoulder. She landed in the crook of his arm, her neck flank against his clothed armpit. For a moment she felt him tense, and she was sure he was going to shove her away. But then, she felt him breathe through his nose and relax, and the arm that had been brushing against the back of her hair fell over her shoulder, falling around her.</p><p>Was this cuddling?</p><p>Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, <em>cuddling</em>?</p><p>She had to stifle a laugh.</p><p>"You didn't have to give it to him, you know. To Kreacher." Hermione said sadly. This was the first time she felt guilt in a while. "If you had just said so, I would've let the letters stay bare."</p><p>"Oh, don't worry, i'll get it back." He said, a soft laugh falling from his lips. "Even if I have to chop off his wrinkly little finger to do so."</p><p>It was silent for a few minutes—There was no need to speak. Hermione didn't need to speak and didn't need him to speak either, because it was comfortable enough to sit in the warmth of the fire with their skin touching, his finger drawing patterns on the small of her back and her hand lingering on his thigh.</p><p>For a moment, all of her anxiety and worries drifted away. Which felt rather strange. Because if you had told the witch jumping into the Black Lake months ago, that she'd be sitting skin-on-skin with Draco Malfoy, she would've made sure to inhale more water so that would've never even be considered a possibility.</p><p>"i hate you still, you know. I still want to see you and your friends suffer, I do." Draco spoke, his voice awfully soft to the point Hermione almost didn't recognise it. "But, it feels as though my hatred is only hatred because I don't hate you and my hatred is so surely anchored on the steadfast rock of Immortality."</p><p>Hermione nodded, completely understanding him. Draco seemed obsessed with death—her death. The sketches and rude comments and sneers. Maybe that's why, because he was afraid that not hating her would get her killed.</p><p>"I think we'll always hate eachother because we feel like it's necessary. Like it's written in the stars, but, hatred doesn't have to mean <em>hate</em>, it can mean something else, something stronger."</p><p>"I know." He said. "This war is ruining us, you know, even if we tried to escape it, it'll still ruin us."</p><p>She nodded, feeling herself curling into his body even further than she had been before.</p><p>"I know."</p><p>—</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>To waken doubt in one</em>
  </b>
  <br/>
  <b>
    <em>Holding so fast by thy infinity,</em>
  </b>
  <br/>
  <b>
    <em>So surely anchored on</em>
  </b>
  <br/>
  <b>
    <em>The steadfast rock of Immortality.</em>
  </b>
</p><p><b><em>— Emily Brontë, No coward soul is Mine</em></b>.</p><p>
  <em>(Poetry Book Hermione brought Draco in Greenwich)</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Twenty-Three.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bizarrely, Draco and Hermione did not speak for six days after their chit-chat that had occurred when they were curled into a ball on the sofa. Hermione had fallen asleep in Draco's embrace, entering into a dream-like trance by the warmth of his chest and the smell of his clean skin.</p><p>They simply <em>didn't</em> speak. It was almost as if he was avoiding her; spending most of his time upstairs while she was downstairs, and he conveniently decided to eat <em>downstairs</em> when she went to shower <em>upstairs</em>. When he did cross her in the halls, he almost always had a look of revulsion on his face. He would avoid her eye most of the time, and when he <em>did</em> look at her, Hermione thought he was going to push her against the wall to kiss her, touch her, fuck her even, but he never did. He would simply scoff, push past her, and disappear. He exited the house once to remove the trace, but he had departed long before Hermione had woken up so she couldn't ask to join him.</p><p>It was on the seventh day that Draco walked into the kitchen; fully dressed in a black pin-coat and combat boots, while Hermione was eating a rather lackluster bacon sandwich. He glanced at her with shaky blue eyes and leant against the fridge, right into the fire-line of the cold February sun-rays dancing through the window.</p><p>"How well do you think you've mastered your wand?" Draco asked, his voice monotone.</p><p>Hermione frowned and swallowed a bite of her sandwich before replying. "I think I've got it under control now?"</p><p>Draco scoffed like he didn't really believe her. He was rotating a silver watch around his wrist, one Hermione had not seen him wearing since the last time she saw him at Hogwarts.</p><p>"Are you sure?" Draco asked, his eyes trained to his wrist. "We could always go and practice once more, just to be sure."</p><p>"I'm <em>sure</em>. But we could." Hermione shrugged, trying to keep her eyes gazing at her half-eaten sandwich rather than at Draco. "Why?"</p><p>Draco huffed and rolled his eyes. He awkwardly let himself fall into the chair opposite Hermione on the round table. Hermione was puzzled, why was his attitude so perplexing today?</p><p>"Why?" Hermione said, a little laugh coming out at the end of her words. "Because you've ignored me for over a week! Now you're concerned at whether I'll blow myself up with my wand all of a sudden?"</p><p>Draco ran his tongue across his bottom lip and murmured under his breath before straightening himself against the chair.</p><p>"I'm not <em>concerned</em>, as a matter of fact." Draco's voice was spitting with anger that had appeared out of nowhere. "It was a simple suggestion to make sure you don't blow something up in <em>my</em> mother's home!"</p><p>"Okay, what is it?" Hermione pressed her forearms against the table and stared at him with a narrow squint. "What's bothering you? Go on, spit it out. There must be a reason you didn't speak to me for a <em>week</em> and why you're <em>suddenly</em> reappearing to question me about <em>my</em> wand."</p><p>Draco raised a brow and ran a hand through his hair. Hermione couldn't decipher the look in his eye, was he angry at something or simply just trying to annoy her? Maybe a mix of both.</p><p>"Nothing!" Draco retorted. Hermione noticed the tips of his ears were turning a raging red colour that contrasted heavily with his white hair. "It was just a question, what's up your fucking ass?"</p><p>"Nothing!" Hermione mimicked Draco's words. "I'm just getting sick and tired of you being so horrid all the time! I thought we decided we were past that."</p><p>Draco laughed gingerly and tilted his head back ever so slightly. His adam's apple rattled in his throat as he drew his head back down so his eyes locked into her own.</p><p>"You call <em>me</em> horrid like you're some sort of saint." Draco sniggered, shaking his head and letting strands of white hair fall over his eyebrows.</p><p>"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked, her head cocking to the side.</p><p>"I'm fed up of <em>you</em> always acting as if there isn't one bad bone in your body," Draco started, Hermione could feel a rush of words bundling in his throat ready to fall out. "You aren't as nice and lovely as everyone makes out you are."</p><p>Hermione huffed and leaned closer to him in frustration.</p><p>"Don't project your issues into me, Draco." Hermione spat, feeling her fingers twitching with growing rage.</p><p>She didn't understand Draco's mood swings. She didn't understand why one second he was cuddling her on the sofa, kissing her, strangling her against the table, and then the next, accusing her of being self-sufficient and evil.</p><p>"I'm not projecting any feelings onto you, Hermione! You really are thick, aren't you? You really are? You call me horrid, you call me cruel, you make out like I'm some sort of devil's advocate when you're actually such a bitch—"</p><p>"I am not a bitch!" Hermione gasped, her hand falling against her sternum.</p><p>"Do you remember that time you said Lavander Brown <em>'deserved to be boiled in frog spawn' </em>during Divination? Or what about the time you said Pansy was '<em>the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet' </em>during transfiguration?" His voice mimicked her accent as he spoke, flipping imaginary hair over his shoulder.</p><p>However, Hermione did not laugh, for he was not trying to be funny. He was being heartless and sadistic. She knew he was trying to get a rise out of her, he was trying to make her yell and scream and shout so they could go back to acting as if they loathed each other.</p><p>However, she couldn't help but feel a twinge in her stomach at the words he was speaking. Because she <em>had</em> said those things. Was she really more of a bitch than she remembered?</p><p>Hermione never viewed herself as a saint. But she had never viewed herself as the devil either.</p><p>"Or how about the time you said Romilda Vane was a '<em>cockwobbling vivacious old swine?</em>'—oh don't act shocked, I was sitting right behind you in potions when you said that—Oh! Don't forget about when dropped Root of Asphodel into Katie Bell's potion so that she wouldn't get a better grade than you!" Draco continued, his cheeks turning a happy red colour.</p><p>"Draco shut up—"</p><p>"No, no! Why should I? Why should I when you act like you're so pure compared to me, like you haven't done your own fair share of bitchy things and said horrible insults? Do you remember casting a jelly-leg charm on Caretaker Filch when he was peacefully trying to sweep the floors? He cried for days in embarrassment!" Draco was still laughing evilly as he yelled, his hands clutching his chest.</p><p>"I was a child, Draco! I'm better than I am worse!" Hermione felt resentment falling into her chest, she didn't feel guilty, she didn't feel guilty <em>anymore</em>, and she half-believed most of these insults or actions were well deserved. "I organised SPEW, I helped Professor Sprout clean up weeds every three days, I—"</p><p>"I don't care about any of that, Hermione." Draco spat. "I've done good as well, I did kind and great things, yet you <em>still</em> call me evil, mean, and a bully!"</p><p>"There's a difference between calling Pansy Parkinson a wart and attempting to kill Albus Dumbledore, Draco." Hermione said, her voice unnervingly steady. "There's a difference between insulting Lavander Brown <em>once</em> and calling me a Mudblood <em>every day</em> since the third year!"</p><p>"I don't give one fuck about your blood, you twat! I called you that because of what you said about my mother! Do you even remember what you said about my mother?" Draco had stopped laughing. His face had turned to stone, resembling a marble statue. "Do you? Do you? I remember it so clearly!"</p><p>Hermione's mouth felt as if there was an invisible zipper at the edges. What did she say about Narcissa Malfoy? Merlin, she did not remember. She felt herself starting to panic because she had grown to understand the bond between Draco and his mother was unfathomable, so strong, and <em>needed</em> for him to stay stable. She felt her hands beginning to tremble ever so slightly. Was <em>this</em> why Draco hated her so much? Why he bullied her and picked on her? Did he really not care about Blood status at all? It would make sense...his mother did love a Muggle. Draco loved his mother, he would've loved the fact somebody had made her happy, even if they were void of magical blood.</p><p>"I remember it so fucking clearly, Hermione. I was taking my seat on the Hogwarts express, you stumbled past with your bushy hair and big teeth and said, clear as day to Ginger-Cunt, <em>'God, did you see Lucius Malfoy just then? He really is such an evil cretin—what kind of fool would marry him? Draco's mother must be rather ugly and prude to settle for a man like Lucius Malfoy.'</em>"</p><p>Hermione's heart went slack in her chest. It came back to her now, rather vividly. She remembered stumbling through the platform with Crookshanks purring on the top of her suitcase. Ron and Harry were close at her side. Harry had pointed towards Draco and Lucius, who were standing by one of the brick Columns. Hermione watched as Lucius spoke to Andrew Nott, Theo's father. They laughed bitterly at many of the students walking past, pointing out battered school shoes and old books. Laughing at <em>the poor</em>, while he pushed Draco, who was wearing brand new leather boots, onto the train by his expensive cane. Hermione remembered thinking why she had never <em>once</em> seen Narcissa at the platform.</p><p>"Draco—I didn't mean it like that—"</p><p>Draco shook his head. His hands had curled into balls on the table. "You did. You did mean it like that!"</p><p>Hermione flinched at the volume of his voice. She had seen Draco in angry states many times, but never like this. It wasn't so much anger, yet resentment. <em>Betrayal</em>.</p><p>For the first time in a while, Hermione felt guilt sweeping into her veins. How could she have assumed Narcissa Malfoy was a cruel and horrible woman without ever meeting her? It was very vain to do so. She didn't blame herself for thinking it, how could she not assume her bully's mother was also horrid? Yet, she did feel guilt. Maybe she was more of a devil than she thought.</p><p>"You didn't even know my mother! You didn't know the shit she had to put up with! You didn't have to watch her sneak out of her bedroom every morning crying because she was forced to sleep beside such a cruel man!" Draco screamed. "You didn't have to watch her rip up every photograph that came her way of her and my father! You didn't have to see her reaction when I found the pictures of her and Joseph under her bed! How her heart broke for the second time looking down at the only person who ever loved her!"</p><p>Draco's hands were no longer in fists, they were palm down on the table, his fingernails sinking into the wood. Hermione wanted to reach out and grab them in her own, she wanted to run her thumb over his hand and tell him it's okay, that it's fine, that he doesn't have to keep hurting like this. But she didn't, because how could she?</p><p>"You and your perfect little squad of Gryffindor's didn't stay up at night blaming yourselves for your mother's depression! You didn't resent being born and trapping her in a heartless marriage with a mean and abusive man! Whenever I heard you talking about your life in class—bubbling on about how your parents had taken you to the alps to go skiing over the winter—how your mother and father had baked you cakes to bring back for your friends—It <em>hurt</em> me. It made me cry. It made me wanna run away from home and take my mother somewhere happy and beautiful and let her live life as you had!"</p><p>For a moment Hermione thought Draco was going to cry. He took a deep breath and steadied himself before speaking again.</p><p>"That's why I was such an ass to you. To Ron. That's why I picked on him and made fun of him for being poor. I was <em>Jealous</em>. I'd rather be poor and have a happy family like he does than what I endeavored at the Manor. That's why I called you a Mudblood. Because I'd rather be a Mudblood and happy than pure-blood and sad." He sighed.</p><p>He shook his head and tore his eyes away from Hermione's face to gaze out the window.</p><p>"You realise I never <em>wanted</em> to bully you? I actually wanted to be your friend." Draco said hesitantly like he felt as if he'd regret saying it. "You were smart like me, you were cute and shy and a little obnoxious. I thought we would get on well. But I'd go home and my father would ask, <em>'Did you make the Mudblood cry today?' </em>or<em> 'Did you tell the Mudblood how dirty she was today?'</em>"</p><p>"Draco—"</p><p>"It's hard for me, Hermione. To act as if I can just be your best friend. I was never allowed to be your friend. I would think about you and the Gryffindor's and feel so much jealousy I'd explode. I'd sketch you and your friends and pretend you were <em>my</em> friends. I didn't have many friends. Not before I began believing the lies my father fed to me, then I found Pansy, Blaise and Theo."</p><p><em>'I'd sketch you and your friends and pretend you were my friends.'</em> Hermione thought about the sketch that resembled her younger self in Draco's dresser. She felt something tighten in her heart.</p><p>"And then I started to hate you for <em>real</em>. Because you shunned me away and acted as if I was a reptile with cold blood. You hid and ran from me. So I hated you. I hated you so much. And I still do!" Draco continued.</p><p>He paused and looked up at her through glassy eyes. "I still hate you for taking so long to come into my life like <em>this</em>."</p><p>"Draco I—I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, all of the rage had burnt away. "We all have our differences, we all—</p><p>Draco shook his head and stood. "There's no point pretending like you understand. You don't understand me and I don't understand you, we were never connected by constellations to do so."</p><p>Hermione thought for a moment. The reality of what Draco had confessed suddenly shadowed over her. All his trauma and anger and pain. She wanted to cry for him. But she couldn't allow herself to. He was <em>right</em>. They were not right for each other, not in friendship and not in love. </p><p>But who said the constellations could decipher your fate? Hermione gritted her teeth and decided; <em>Fate could be rewritten if you try hard enough.</em></p><p>"You're right, Draco, You're really right," Hermione said, taking a deep breath. "But forgiveness and forgetting are two different things. I can forgive you, somehow, eventually, but I won't forget the hell you made for me, for Harry, for Ron. I won't forget the tears I had shed while I scrubbed my skin to get rid of '<em>The Mud.</em>' I won't forget brushing tears away from Ron's cheeks and telling him it was fine he was poor because happiness will always come his way. I <em>won't</em>."</p><p>Draco gave her a stiff nod. "Okay."</p><p>He walked towards the door, Hermione caught a glint of wetness beneath his eye as a sun-ray from the window caught his face once more.</p><p>"Hermione?"</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"Put your boots on, we are going out."</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione expected to land in the field to practice dueling against Draco, but he had apparated them behind a bush in Little Venice, London. A small junction of the Paddington Grand Union Canal, the Regent's Canal, and the entrance to Paddington Basin.</p><p>Hermione remembered vaguely coming here when she was a teenager with her father. He took them for a 'stroll' on the edge of the water and brought her a pasty from a boat-vender. It was summer then, with warm bundles of sunlight, green hedges and overgrown flower-bushes. But now it was winter, the air was brittle and the hedges were covered in white from the small downpour of snow that occurred overnight in this side of London. But the sun was shining, cold as it was, it was shining, illuminating the place in a mixture of warmth and chill.</p><p>Draco walked beside her in silence. His hands were slung deep inside of his pockets, where they rattled slightly with cold. She also knew his hand was wrapped tightly around his sleek wand. They made sure to be extra careful today, covering their faces with scarves and large hats. Hermione could see Draco's eyes dancing over every person they crossed, looking for the tiniest ounce of magic within them.</p><p>But everything seemed rather Muggle.</p><p>"You've been here before?" Hermione asked as Draco turned a corner that led them towards the canal bank.</p><p>On the outsides of the canal were various stationary Narrowboat's, all of different shades of red, green, blue, and yellow.</p><p>"Once, when I was fifteen," Draco replied with a cautious voice. His attitude seemed indifferent and slightly agitated following their minor blow in the safe-house. "Mother brought me during summer, as a treat for becoming prefect. She was rather shocked, unlike my father who didn't really seem to care. She brought me lunch."</p><p>Hermione nodded and followed Draco down the edge of the canal. Draco wasn't looking anywhere but the path ahead and occasionally let his eyes dance around for any suspicious activity, but Hermione was being nosey. She was letting her eyes fall through the windows of the boats to study what she saw. Nothing was rather exciting, apart from the one boat that had an entire bookshelf nailed to the side of it beside the window.</p><p>As they continued to walk, Draco pulled out a cigarette and lit it quickly inside his pocket with his wand. </p><p>"Also, it reminded me vaguely of the boathouse in Exmouth, somewhat," Draco said, his eyes glancing down at Hermione for a mere second. Hermione spotted them sparkle beneath his hat. "The boathouse was rather comfortable, I'd like to live at sea one day."</p><p>Hermione felt rigid at the thought of the boathouse. It seemed like years ago they had arrived in Exmouth, fighting with the snow as they entered Graham's home. The thought of Graham made Hermione feel dizzy, the image of his lifeless body hitting the water flooded her mind. Theodore Nott had killed him, <em>apparently</em>. It felt awfully strange to think about, so Hermione folded the memory in half and shoved it to the back of her mind.</p><p>"At sea? I wouldn't take you for someone who favours the ocean." Hermione raised an eyebrow beneath her bucket-hat. "You seem more like a boy who would want to live in the countryside in a grand mansion with poor little house-elves cooking dinner for you and your weeny white-haired children."</p><p>Draco stopped walking and turned to face her. He was taller than her, so she could see beneath his hat, and she noticed his eyebrows furrowing together like he was angry. But then his lips twitched playfully as he brought the cigarette to his lips.</p><p>"Been there done <em>that, </em>Granger, my experience living in a big mansion was not the best." His hand fell out of his wand pocket. Hermione saw this as a visual representation of some of his anxieties about leaving the safe house dissolving. "Besides, the sea is endless. Imagine the possibilities! Could throw myself overboard if I got sad, you know?"</p><p>Hermione tried not to wince. He was only joking, but the image of the Black Lake fell into her mind. He didn't know about <em>that</em>, so he wouldn't have said it to be malicious.</p><p>"Right, yeah, the ocean." She coughed. "Can you even swim?"</p><p>"No." He shrugged, grabbing her arm and pulling her as they continued to walk. He flicked his cigarette into a passing bin.</p><p>Hermione suggested stopping at a cafe for a drink, but Draco flinched and told her no. She scoffed, and told him that they would be more than fine, but he insisted <em>'I don't wanna have to stun your ass again, Granger.'</em> So instead, they found themselves sitting on the bow of a commercial canal boat, which had taken off down the water headed for Camden.</p><p>Hermione had to pay. Draco pouted and told her he had no Muggle money. She didn't mind, but she still saw him stuffing four gallons into her bag when she 'wasn't looking.' She reminded herself to put them back in his pocket when they arrived home. Home? Was it home? Or simply a place to keep herself safe? She didn't think on it.</p><p>When they arrived in Camden, Draco had shuffled them inside of the market, and didn't speak a word to her as his fingers shuffled over various types of vintage leather jackets. His eyes were sparkling as if he had never seen anything so wonderful in his life. His eyes lingered on the ones on the far wall, that had paintings etched into the leather. Particularly one with large metal buckles and a snake painted on the back.</p><p>"You like that?" Hermione asked, ignoring the lingering stare of the shop owner as she edged closer to Draco at the far wall. "Draco Malfoy, in <em>leather</em>?"</p><p>"It's rather—" He dropped his voice. "—Muggle, isn't it?"</p><p>Hermione shrugged and moved even closer to let her finger run down the paint on the back of the leather jacket. "A leather jacket with a snake on the back? Muggle? Rather <em>Slytherin</em> if you ask me."</p><p>Draco hummed but then stepped away and started to leave.</p><p>"You don't want it?" Hermione asked, lingering by the wall. "It's—it would very nice on you."</p><p>Truthfully, the thought of Draco wearing a leather jacket made her mouth water. Hermione was so familiar with his simple black sweatshirt or the Slytherin robes he had worn for years, that she was somewhat desperate to see him in something so...badass.</p><p>Draco shot a stare at the shop owner, who was rather busy painting another leather jacket on the counter, and then mouthed to Hermione. 'No Muggle Money!'</p><p>The shop owner glanced up and spoke with a small smirk. "You can use galleon's here."</p><p>Hermione's heart thumped in her chest. How could he have possibly known? Hermione and Draco had hardly wandered into Muggle London wearing wizarding robes.</p><p>Draco shot her a look of sheer terror before glancing over to the shop owner. His hand had already found its way inside of his pocket and Hermione knew it was wrapped tightly around his wand. He couldn't trust <em>anyone</em>, not since the attack they had faced in Greenwich.</p><p>"You don't have to worry, I'm not a crazy person." The young man said, standing up and placing his paintbrush on the counter beside the jacket on which he was painting a rain forest. "I'm a squib—couldn't hurt you even if I wanted to."</p><p>Draco faltered. Hermione had found her way by his side without thinking about it, like he was a safety magnet. Although, deep down she knew if anyone was able to blow someone's head off, it was her and her locket wand inside her left pocket.</p><p>"How did you—How—" Hermione asked, not noticing how Draco's spare hand had wrapped its way around her forearm, tugging her towards him.</p><p>"I could smell the magic radiating from you the moment you stepped in!" He laughed, his face beaming with what seemed like some sort of happiness. "Hogwarts students? What are your names?"</p><p>He seemed excited to be in the presence of Magical beings.</p><p>Hermione panicked for a moment. If the shop owner was of wizarding decent that he more than likely had access to the Daily Prophet. He more than likely had access to the information being written that Theodore Nott and his band of Death-Eaters were on the hunt for Draco Malfoy.</p><p>"No—No. Homeschooled in Exmouth, actually." Hermione replied quickly, leaning her shoulder into Draco's chest and soaking up the warmth of his body. "My name is Rose, this is my brother Anchor—Our father is a fisherman, didn't like the idea of sending us to Scotland and mother was very adamant about teaching us the right kind of magic."</p><p>The man nodded, his long shaggy brown hair fell over his shoulders. Hermione noticed it was braided with little beads in certain places and he had golden eyes that pooled with the light from outside.</p><p>"Rightfully so! I've heard its chaos there at the moment! Rita Skeeter just wrote an article about how Professor Mcgonagall has set so many wards around the school it's impossible for the Quidditch players to even fly a foot in the air before getting knocked back down by an invisible bubble!" The man continued shaking his head like he was in disbelief.</p><p>Hermione felt herself wanting to be sick. She hadn't thought about Hogwarts in a while. Her brain quickly penetrated her thoughts with the image of a rather red-faced Ginny stomping into the dorm with her Quidittch robes on, grasping her Cleansweep in her fists. Flying was Ginny's outlet. Everyone needed an outlet, especially being stuck inside Hogwarts with the Carrow Twins watching their every move.</p><p>"I don't blame her though, with everything that's going on, heard the Dark Lord made a weary appearance at the Ministry last week and gouged the eyes out of every Half-Blood employee there." He continued, wiping the paint from his hands with a cloth. "The papers kept that one rather quiet though, too busy pounding the public for information about Draco Malfoy."</p><p>"They still haven't found him yet?" Hermione answered quickly, without questioning it. She could hear Draco's heart thumping against her shoulder-blade. She knew his eyes were trained to the floor, trying to hide any recognisable feature of himself from the squib. </p><p>"Nah, no one seems to really care though. Must just be his father paying the media an exceptionable amount to keep his name alive—who <em>really</em> cares though, am I right? We have more things to worry about than a rouge eighteen-year boy." He shrugged.</p><p>Hermione cleared her throat and nodded her head. It felt as if it moved painfully slowly.</p><p>"Anyway—enough of my rambling!" The man laughed and clapped his hands together. "Would you like to take the jacket? Took me hours to paint! Exceptional piece really."</p><p>Draco nodded, and moments later they were walking back towards the canal, Draco holding a rather large plastic bag that contained his leather jacket. Hermione couldn't deny she heavily anticipated the day he wore it.</p><p>They shared a glance at one another, both with strained eyes and pursed lips. They silently agreed that they should go home, before the squib could come to any sudden realisation that it was in fact Draco Malfoy in his shop and not Anchor Smith.</p><p>They found a small alleyway and with a heavy breath, apparated back to Southwark as if they had never even left.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione was sitting by the fire reading her book by Margret Atwood. It was taking her rather long to get through it. Normally she could read a book this size within a day or two, but she'd had it for over a month now, and he was hardly even halfway.</p><p>She felt as though she had no time to read, even though really, she had all the time in the world. The thought made her head hurt. She had so much time because she <em>wasn't</em> fighting the war. She wasn't helping her friends at Hogwarts and she wasn't helping Harry and Ron on their hunt for Horcruxes either. She was shacked up in a safe-house with Draco Malfoy. However—it felt right. It felt <em>needed</em>. Her memory of Regulus Black told her so. He used blood magic to bind her to the wand, she would've ended up here no matter what.</p><p>The Black Lake reminded her. Over and over again. Hogwarts was <em>doomed</em>.</p><p>Her mind began to wander back to what the squib had said in Camden. About Voldemort arriving at the Ministry, about the wards at Hogwarts. Hermione almost let herself conclude it meant the final blow was coming, but her thoughts were interrupted.</p><p>"You're still reading that?" A voice drifted through the living room. "<em>Slow</em>."</p><p>Hermione peered at him and slowly closed her book. He was holding his sketchbook, pressed right against the mid-rift of his silk pyjamas.</p><p>"It's a good book. It's just...taking me a while." Hermione shrugged, her eyes following him until he fell against the sofa beside her.</p><p>Beside her. This was another boundary he had broken, first was calling her Hermione, second was crossing the space between the armchair and the sofa. Now, the armchair seemed like an impossibly far-away object. It would feel silly for him to sit there now.</p><p>Hermione continued to watch him as he opened his sketchbook just slightly, flicking through the pages, almost as if he was hiding the contents within it. She caught sight of splattered ink and pencil and ripped pages.</p><p>She pursed her lips together and set her book on the coffee table.</p><p>"I never realised you were so into art," Hermione said, keeping her voice soft. "I never saw you sketching at Hogwarts."</p><p>Draco stopped flicking through the pages and turned towards her ever so slightly. His expression was slightly masked, and it was hard to comprehend what he was thinking.</p><p>"My mother taught me how to sketch and paint during my time here." He shrugged, and then motioned to the sketches in frames on the walls in the living room. "I was a very angry child, as you probably know, so she made me sketch."</p><p>Hermione couldn't help but scoff. "So you'd come home and say <em>'Mum I beat two kids up today!'</em> and she'd say, <em>'Aw Draco, do some sketches for me my dragon.'</em>"</p><p>Hermione hissed at her own words as she watched Draco's masked expression turn into a scowl. She shouldn't have said that. It was hard enough for Draco to express how he was feeling and that certainly did nothing but shoot him down.</p><p>"Sorry, Draco—I didn't mean it like that—"</p><p>"Yeah well, you did mean it like <em>that</em>. What happened to being past <em>that</em>?" He shot, throwing his sketchbook onto the coffee table beside her book. "It was, still is, my outlet. I sketch when I'm frustrated, when I'm angry or sad, Hermione, stop being cruel."</p><p>Why did he sound like <em>her</em>? It almost made her want to laugh.</p><p>"Why did you sketch my death so much?" Hermione fired back. There was no anger behind her words, she simply didn't want him to override her.</p><p>Draco huffed and ran a hand through his hair, exposing his forehead for a moment before it fell back down and into his eyes.</p><p>"Because you were so—you were so fucking annoying." He rolled his eyes. "You didn't listen to what I said. You tried to argue with me on everything, and everything you wanted to do would've got you <em>killed</em>. I dreamt it, constantly, I'd see your body over my dining table, or in a grave. It would repeat and repeat and repeat until I sketched a new one."</p><p>Hermione pursed her lips together and turned on the sofa to look up at him. The fire was engulfing him, souring through his annoyance and dripping him with smoke. Once again, he resembled a Dragon.</p><p>"You're horrible," Hermione said. She didn't mean it, but she was enjoying watching the flames crack beneath his eyes. She pressed a hand against his chest, her fingers sweeping over the bare skin where his necklace pooled into his collarbones. "You're really really <em>really</em> horrible, Draco."</p><p>He sucked a breath in as her hand rose higher, lingering at the base of his neck.</p><p>"Stop trying to piss me off." Draco warned, his skin had already turned flush-red.</p><p>Why was Hermione enjoying this so much? Why was she enjoying tickling the Dragon?</p><p>Pissing him off was one of the most enjoyable things to do. It was the only thing Hermione could do well, anymore. She moved her hand up his neck and let her palm settle behind it, playing with the small tufts of hair curling at the base. Her other hand moved to linger on his thigh, he brushed it away but didn't tell her to stop moving closer towards him until their noses were almost touching.</p><p>"Piss you off? No no, <em>never</em>," She dragged her voice out, enjoying how he flinched when her breath ghosted his mouth. "But, Draco, you're so horrible. Did you enjoy making me cry? Watching me run from you? Did you get off to the thought of my dirty blood? Did you enjoy pushing me against walls and sinking your fingers into m—"</p><p>"Hermione." He said, his voice hard as a crack.</p><p>She paused, worrying if she had stepped over the line.</p><p>But he smirked ever so slightly.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Fuck you."</p><p>And with that, he gripped the sides of her face and pressed his lips against her own so roughly she thought she was going to pass out.</p><p>Dear <em>God</em> did she miss the taste of his lips. Hermione hadn't realised how much she had been craving his touch until she was starved of it for so long.</p><p>She felt herself moaning into his mouth when one hand slipped from her face to wrap around the base of her neck, his fingers squeezing her throat ever so slightly, as if to say;<em> mine, you're mine, my filthy Mudblood.</em></p><p>He pulled his lips back and tugged on her bottom with his teeth, hard enough to make her whimper. And Godric did she know how to rile him up. He growled and pulled her so she practically fell into his lap, her back arching against him.</p><p>"You're so—" Draco pulled away to dance his lips across her jawline. "—So annoyingly addictive."</p><p>His lips fell against her neck, sucking at a soft spot by her ear. She moaned and felt herself fighting back the urge to tear off every inch of his clothing and let him take her right then and there.</p><p>Because she had to be rational no matter how much she <em>wanted</em> him.</p><p>"Draco—" She said breathlessly, grabbing his face in her hands to pull him up. "—Stop Draco wait."</p><p>He drew himself away as quickly as he had kissed her, his lips plush and red and his eyes as dark as the night sky.</p><p>"You good?" He asked, his voice surprisingly concerned.</p><p>"Yes but before we—" Hermione started. "Before we do...<em>that</em>...don't you think we should address everything—well—what we did?"</p><p>Draco paused and pushed her from his lap softly. His taunt expression suddenly closed.</p><p>"No." He shrugged, running his thumb over his damp lips. "Why should we?"</p><p>Hermione huffed at his stubbornness and run a hand through her now-tangled hair from where he had tugged at it.</p><p>"Well, for one, you never even asked if I was—you never asked—"</p><p>"If you are a virgin?" Draco finished it for her, one eyebrow landing higher than the other.</p><p>Hermione felt her cheeks go pink. She'd never discussed something like <em>this</em> with her closest of friends, not Ginny or Harry or Luna—let alone Draco.</p><p>"You can't tell me ginger-cunt didn't worm his way in there at some point?" Draco scoffed, but when Hermione flinched and looked down at her hands his expression changed and he hissed. "That was a joke, Hermione, shit, it was a joke."</p><p>"I know but—" She paused, taking a breath through her nose to try and rid the strong scent of Draco's body wash. "—We did all those things and it was my first time doing th—</p><p>"I would only ask if you were a virgin if I intended to fuck you." He interrupted, an unsure expression on his features like he was half being careful to not upset her and half not caring at all. "Otherwise, knowing a woman's sexual past is none of my business."</p><p>"Right, yeah. Okay—<em>yeah</em>." Hermione nodded. She hated how awkward she felt talking about this, when she was so confident kissing the life out of him moments before. "I enjoyed it, though, what we did before, even if you regretted it."</p><p>"Did you regret it?" Draco said, his elbows were on his knees and he turned his face into the line of the firelight to gaze at her with lustful black eyes. "Did you regret letting me touch you?"</p><p>Hermione shook her head. "No, I didn't."</p><p>He nodded and picked up a cushion from beside him, absentmindedly placing it on his lap. "Good."</p><p>It was silent for a few minutes, neither of them really feeling the need to speak.</p><p>"So, Grange—Hermione," Draco turned towards her once more with a half-playful half-vicious smirk on his lips. "Are you a virgin?"</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Twenty-Four.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione laughed, shooting Draco a sidewards glance.</p><p>"Is this just you being a twit?" She asked, her breath rather smoky. "Why would you care?"</p><p>"I would only ask if you were a virgin if I intended to fuck you." Draco replied. </p><p>Hermione thought about it for a second, trying to not let the sexual images run through her mind. Too soon. Too irresponsible. But wasn't it the same as letting Draco fuck her with his fingers and tongue?—No, no, <em>no</em>. that was less intimate, less important, less...less...it had less feeling, right?</p><p>"I don't <em>care</em>. It's just—I would like to know—because I—" He edged an inch closer to her again, his fingers finding themselves on her shoulders, tugging at the straps of her bra absentmindedly. "Would you <em>care</em> if I cared?"</p><p>Technically, she wouldn't care. Hermione had never really given much thought into sex, she never had time to. She was always too focused on battling her anxiety by studying, day and night. And when she was of an age where it crossed her mind, the war had began to fizzle out any sort of desire inside of her for it. Her only sexual experiences, before Draco, had been rushed and somewhat wishy-washy. Cormac, for example, had dragged her to his dorm room bed following Slughorn's party and was so desperate for an orgasm he didn't even touch <em>her</em> once.</p><p>And then there was the time when she drank way way <em>way</em> too much butterbeer and found herself grinding against Fred Weasley in his box room in the Burrow on New-Years Eve. They hadn't spoken about it since, not that they needed too, Hermione was sure Fred had been too drunk to even remember a thing the next morning. And even the time her and Padma—<em>no</em>, she wouldn't think about <em>that</em> today.</p><p>"I wouldn't care," Hermione concluded, her breath turning shaky when his left hand came to rest at the base of her neck. "Would you care if I didn't care that you cared?"</p><p>Draco bent down and pressed his lips against the underside of her ear. "Stop being smart, Hermione, and answer the question."</p><p>Hermione hissed when she felt his teeth sinking into the spot between his hand around her throat and her collarbone. "Tell me, has Rose been a dirty Mudblood for anyone but me?"</p><p><em>Rose</em>. He knew knew how wrap her around his little finger, didn't he?</p><p>
  <em>Yes, I have been dirty. But not as filthy as I have been for you.</em>
</p><p>"Does this—oh god—does this mean you want—"</p><p>Draco chucked against her skin as he ran his tongue across her collarbone. "To fuck you? Absolutely, I want nothing more than to feel how fucking filthy you are."</p><p>"We shouldn't," Hermione was trying to think and act rationally, but the arousal between her legs was telling her differently. "It would destroy everything."</p><p>"Have we left anything else to be destroyed?" Draco quirked back, his hand dropping from her neck to let his fingers brush against the underside of her nipple.</p><p>"Draco—"</p><p>"Call me <em>Anchor</em>."</p><p>Why did he still want to be called Anchor; was he afraid of crossing <em>that</em> path? Why was it okay for him to call her Hermione, but not when his lips were on her skin?</p><p>"Anchor please—"</p><p>Draco's lips departed her collarbone and instead grazed against her cheek until they landed at the edge of her mouth. "You want me to fuck you? Answer my fucking question, are you a whore or not?"</p><p>Hermione hissed, feeling Draco's other hand tangle in her hair so he could press her face closer to his. Whore? She liked that. Dear God did she like that. To feel tainted, dirty, to not feel like Hermione Granger for once, but to feel like Rose Waterlily.</p><p>"Only for you." She breathed into his mouth.</p><p>He smirked and tugged on her bottom lip so hard she was sure he had drew blood. "Good girl."</p><p>Hermione felt her body give in to him, she felt her back falling against the velvet sofa and heard Draco's belt clinking desperately as he tried to tear of his trousers.</p><p>
  <em>Tap, tap, tap.</em>
</p><p>Draco growled and sat up, his eyes in the direct view of the window, which pooled them with winter light. Hermione sat too, feeling Draco's skin departing her own. She followed his eyes, and to her surprise saw Molack, Narcissa's owl, tapping at the window.</p><p>She had completely forgotten that she was awaiting Harry and Ron's response.</p><p>"Fucking owl, I'm gonna wring its neck!" Draco grunted, stepping from the sofa to cross to the window. "Fucking Four-Eyes and Ginger-Cunt! Trust them to interrupt!"</p><p>He opened the window with a loud creak and Molack flew inside and landed next to Hermione, her feet resting on the arm of the sofa. Molack stuck her leg out, revealing a thick piece of parchment tied to it with thread.</p><p>"Thank you." Hermione said, grasping the letter and petting the owl on the head. Draco was behind her fiddling with the sink to give Molack some water after her journey, to which she tooted happily and landed on the counter to lap it up.</p><p>"Go on then, what did the twats say?" Draco asked, walking back to the sofa very stiffly, hiding his groin with his hands and perching himself on the edge of the sofa-back.</p><p>"Draco!" Hermione swatted his thigh with the parchment. "Stop calling them names!"</p><p>He scoffed and tore the letter from her hands, ignoring her protests. She reached for it, but he just held it higher, knowing that she was much shorter than him with much stubbier arms.</p><p>He read over it and scoffed, his jaw tensing in time with his ragged breaths. Hermione gave up trying to reach for the letter and simply tried to study his reaction. His eyes read over the letter four times before he huffed and stood fully, dropping his hands to his waist.</p><p>"How did you put up with these insufferable twits? Honestly, the Order really think Harry can beat The Dark Lord when he can't even comp—"</p><p>"Just give me the letter!" She stomped over to him and tore it from his hands, moving towards the window to soak up some of the light to read it.</p><p>He huffed and crossed his arms, his eyes trained tentatively to her as she scanned over the letter. </p><p>Hm. Hm. How should she feel?</p><p>
  <em>To HG,<br/>We are not at Grimmauld Place. We were never at Grimmauld place...it has been dormant since the death of Snuffles. <br/>Who told you that false information?<br/>What do you mean you aren't at Hogwarts? We swear to Godric if you are doing something stupid and trying to be brave, your making the wrong decision! </em>
  <em>We hope the worst you are doing is helping the OOTP. But knowing you, you are doing something wreckless. </em>
  <em>We can't discuss what you 'claim' to possess. But keep it safe. </em>
  <em>We hope to return soon, and when we do, it seems as if a lengthy chat is in order.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>H and R.</em>
</p><p>Draco waited patiently for her to finish and walked to stand beside her, his pale skin drinking in the light. He shouldered the window and gazed at her, as if thinking what was correct to say and what wasn't.</p><p>"First of all," Draco pursed his lips together. "Who the fuck is Snuffles?"</p><p>Hermione scoffed, feeling an odd sense of nostalgia running through her veins at the thought of the nickname.</p><p>"Sirius Black." Hermione said, nodding her head just slightly as if Draco should know that, but how would he?</p><p>It felt weird, exposing all of these <em>secrets</em> to Draco when she will wasn't one hundred percent sure she could <em>trust</em> him. Hermione had forgotten that Draco hadn't been there for the past eight years of her life, discovering secrets and hiding them, living with the Order—being shunned from the Order to return to Hogwarts. But yet, why shouldn't he know? Why shouldn't everyone know? All that Draco knew was they Grimmauld Place was the home of the Order until they were driven out and into another safe-house that no one knew of.</p><p>She felt there as if there was absolutely no point in hiding anything from him, even if <em>he</em> still hid things from her. The stress of having to bundle all the secrets up in the back of her mind was becoming tiresome, boredom, and simply painful. Plus, Draco was the only person she felt like she could talk to anymore, in an odd sort of way. Realistically, she <em>could</em> talk to anyone; Ginny, Harry, Ron, Luna, even the Twins or Molly or Neville. But she didn't <em>want</em> to talk to them, she didn't want to share this experience with them—She wanted to share it with Draco.</p><p>Inside her mind, she cursed Regulus Black for using Blood Magic to allow this to happen. He was the reason she had ended up here, right?</p><p>Draco hummed and tucked his hands into his pockets, squaring his shoulders slightly like he was in a state of confusion.</p><p>"Interesting name choice—Ah yes, I distinctively remember Aunt Bella marching back to the Manor with the upmost happiness that she had killed the Gryffindor family member!" Draco smirked, his lips quirking upwards like he was amused.</p><p>Hermione went rigid, and turned on her heels and departed the space by the window, watching Draco roll his eyes and she stomped away.</p><p>"That's not funny, you prat!" She called over her shoulder, slumping back onto the sofa and reading the letter once over. The parchment had turned a warm beige at the echo of the fire.</p><p>"Calm down for Salazar's sake, witch." Draco followed her like a shadow, his broad frame landing beside her with a gentle thud. "I'm joking."</p><p>Hermione shot him a glare and turned back towards the parchment.</p><p>"Why did Luna lie to us?" Hermione said, after thinking for a moment. "Why did she say they were at Grimm—?</p><p>Draco interrupted her with a short huff, his hand moving to fall to the back of Hermione's head where he absentmindedly placed with wavy strands of her hair.</p><p>"Will you just take a deep breath?" He said, not turning to face her but instead staring into the eye of the fire to let it engulf him. "I don't know why, must be a reason?."</p><p>Hermione gritted her teeth. She hated that he always as if he didn't care, as if she was the crazy one. She knew he didn't care for Harry or Ron in any way shape or form—but he could at least try to care about <em>this</em>, even if it involves <em>them</em>.</p><p>"Draco!" She yelled, pushing his hand away from her head. "This is serious! You don't find that weird at all? Oh, I stumble here and find a wand made from a Horcrux, and when I tell Luna about it all of a sudden the elf she looks after and <em>her</em> lie to us!"</p><p>Draco ran a hand over his face in frustration. "Just calm dow—"</p><p>"No!" She swatted his arm. "God, you are so infuriating, Malfoy! This is weird, it's so weird, and Kreacher putting the wand into my hand, <em>weird</em>! I don't trust them!"</p><p><em>Malfoy</em>.</p><p>"Kreacher is obviously a prat, I doubt it's linked in any way. Maybe Luna just got the facts wrong, Granger, I'll just ask her when I go to her house in a few days for the trace."</p><p>Hermione frowned. "And you take her side over mine? Weren't you calling her a blonde bimbo a few days ago?"</p><p>Draco's hand had found its way back to her hair and she had no effort to push it away this time.</p><p>"I'm not taking anyone's side, besides, I quite <em>like</em> that Blonde Bimbo, she makes good tea." He shrugged. "Listen, stop letting stuff like this stress you out—"</p><p>He pulled his stare from the fire and looked towards her, squinting at her with his cold eyes. Why was he so attractive? Why did his stare make her tremble? Why did it...comfort her? Hermione thought if you told her sixteen-year-old self that such thoughts would ever cross her mind, she would've laughed.</p><p>"The only thing that should be stressing you out is the way your supposed best-friends instantly jumped down your throat and thought <em>you</em> were doing something wreckless. Don't they trust you?"</p><p>Hermione frowned and tried to not let her stare linger on his lips. "Haven't I done something wreckless? I ran away from the one place that could've guaranteed some sort of protection and I ended up here, with the enemy, possessing a Horcrux wand."</p><p>"You still consider me the enemy?" Draco quirked back, seemly eager to ignore her question. "Even after you let me—"</p><p>"—You are <em>still</em> the enemy. You still bullied me. You still ruined my childhood at school, Ron's too, even Harry's, Ginny, and the rest of us."</p><p>She glanced across to the arm that was raised in the air to cup her head, eyes locking onto the black tattoo on his skin that reeked of Dark Magic.</p><p>"And, you still have <em>that</em>." She said, her words coming out somewhat sadder than she had expected. "As long as you have that, everyone will always view you as the enemy."</p><p>He nodded and dropped his hand, the warmth of his touch disappeared from her skin.</p><p>"This isn't normal. You're Draco Malfoy and I'm Hermione Granger. No one will ever find this predicament normal in any way—Even I don't understand it." She sighed, shaking her head and tossing the letter to the coffee table.</p><p>Because really, Draco was right. Harry and Ron had shot her down, had accused her, and belittled her. They didn't even ask if she was okay.</p><p>What would they say if she told them she tried to kill herself in the Black Lake before deciding to run away, what would they do if they found out she had been kissing the enemy? There was no way to even explain why she continued to do <em>that</em>, because there was nothing to hold her here anymore now the wand had pledged its alliance to her like Regulus had planned. She could leave if she wanted to.</p><p>"Nothing makes sense, and you know that." Draco rolled his eyes.</p><p>"Does any of this make sense? For Christ sake's Hermione, we're wizards, involved in a war where a no-nose resurrected monster wants to kill an eighteen-year-old speccy twat. My father is a Death-Eater and my mother is dead. Your parents are Muggles and you possess a wand that could do more damage than anything I've ever seen. I think that deems kissing, touching and staying here together, not so strange."</p><p>His chest was rising and falling, like he had become overwhelmed. And while it made sense, she couldn't comprehend why he was giving into her. Why he was allowing her to make him act so rational and why he was suddenly acting so kind.</p><p>Where was the toxic Draco that possessed the white hair she knew? Why was he turning into the man he had created—Anchor Smith?</p><p>"Do you still hate me?" Hermione asked, peering over at him as his eyes stared at the dusty chandelier above him.</p><p>He tilted his head against the backrest of the sofa to gaze at her, his lips tinkling into a smirk.</p><p>"Always."</p><p>His gaze lingered for at least thirty seconds, his eyes working their way over her face while she simply gazed back at him. Something swelled in her stomach, anger, sadness, and confusion—all at once.</p><p>He reached out for her again, his arm gripping her shoulder, practically pulling her on-top of his lap. She let out a small ooof in surprise, as her chest fell against his own.</p><p>"The more you stress out," He began, his hands climbing up her arms to rest on her shoulders, "The more this will taunt you. Don't let the war ruin you, because then, the world would be royally fucked."</p><p>"It's already ruined me," Hermione muttered, dipping her head down to press her lips against his cheeks, grazing his skin with her teeth. "Why would I be here if it hadn't already ruined me?"</p><p>Hermione hadn't noticed that her legs had dropped on either side of Draco's lap and that she was now straddling him. She merely processed his bulge grinding against her thigh until he groaned and bucked his hips up against her.</p><p>"Then maybe, it's a good thing," He grunted, hands sliding up her back beneath her jumper, tugging at the back of her bra. "If the war hadn't ruined you, then you wouldn't have ended up here, right?"</p><p>Draco's hands landed on her hips and slowly tugged at them so their cores ground against one-another ever so slightly.</p><p>"You already know I was bound by blood magic to find that wand no matter what." Hermione hummed against his cheek, her fingers falling into the back of his white hair. "So, thank Regulus—"</p><p>"Who said I was <em>glad</em> you're here?" Draco quirked back, his hand moving from her hip to grip the back of her skull, where he pulled her head backward, smirking at the way Hermione whimpered in pain and spat, "Shut the fuck up, <em>Rose</em>, for once."</p><p>He tugged her head backwards one more time and smirked at her, baring his teeth before he yanked her forwards and finding her lips with his own.</p><p>As soon as their lips met; she was putty, falling into his touch and opening at the seams, allowing him to fill her with cupidity.</p><p>His tongue dipped inside of her lips, licking and swallowing her quiet whimpers and moans as his fingers tugged at her hair, pulling it so that it hurt. And Hermione couldn't control her body rocking against him, soft and gentle yet full of desperation all at once.</p><p>He broke the kiss, looking at her through his eyelashes.</p><p>"I hate you so fucking much," He groaned, wrapping a hand around her neck and squeezing her throat. He spoke into her mouth, blocking all form of breath from entering her lungs, "Who knew hate could make for such perfect companionship?"</p><p>She pulled and tugged at his bottom lip before shooting back, "Shut the fuck up, <em>Anchor</em>, for once."</p><p>Her hands fell against his cheeks as she pressed into his mouth, playing with his tongue in the way that made her entire body feel as if it was on fire. His hands dropped to her waist again, where they fiddled with the button on her trousers, tugging at it until it popped open.</p><p><em>Crack</em>.</p><p>Hermione knew that sound, and evidently, so did Draco, because he pulled away from her as quick as light, his brows furrowed into the centre of his face.</p><p>Hermione peered over his shoulder and saw Kreacher the elf, lingering by the table, his small legs trembling from apparating into the room. It only took a moment for Hermione to realise how and why he could apparate into a safe-house with so many wards and protective spells, as she remembered he is an elf and their magic is rather different. Plus this <em>was</em> Narcissa and Regulus' home, his home, years before now.</p><p>"I swear to Salazar!" Draco growled, pushing Hermione from his lap and rising to his feet angrily, his left hand concealing his bulge. "Are you fucking joking me, first Molack, and now this cunt of an elf!"</p><p>Kreacher flinched at his words and hissed. Hermione slapped Draco's arm as she appeared by his side.</p><p>Hermione quickly remembered that Molack was still sitting perched on the countertop beside the water Draco had set aside for her, and Hermione felt herself blushing at the thought of the owl watching the events that had just occurred on the sofa.</p><p>"Kreacher apologises for interrupting Sir and the Mudblood" Kreacher stepped towards them and muttered beneath his breath. "What would Miss Narcissa say? Her son kissing the likes of her!"</p><p>Hermione gritted her teeth and reminded herself he was raised serving the Black Family. Of course he had these opinions. She tried to not let it sting, but it did anyway.</p><p>"What the fuck do you want and why do you think it's acceptable to flounce into the house with no warning!" Draco growled, leaning over Kreacher and casting a shadow across his grey skin.</p><p>"Miss Luna has sent for me to fetch you, sir, says that Mr Blaise wants to speak with you, sir." Kreacher said, nodding his head as he spoke. "Alone without the Mudblood, please, sir"</p><p>Hermione pursed her lips together.</p><p>How could she trust Luna or Kreacher after they had bluntly lied to them about Ron and Harry's whereabouts? Hermione stepped in-front of Draco ever so slightly and stared down at Kreacher through squinted eyes.</p><p>All of her qualities and beliefs surrounding <em>SPEW</em> suddenly disintegrated into dust.</p><p>"And why can't I come, can I ask?" She crossed her arms and cocked out a hip. Draco scoffed at her but let her speak.</p><p>Kreacher eyes lingered on her open button, he grimaced and muttered something beneath his breath. Hermione's hands automatically fell to cover it with her palm.</p><p>"Sir Blaise wants a private conversation, Mudblood, with Mr Draco." Kreacher retorted. "If you will be lonely, Kreacher can come back afterwards and keep you company, but sir wants to be alone with other sir, this time."</p><p>Draco hummed from beside her. "And where is it Luna wants me to meet him? I suppose that's who is staying at Grimmauld Place with you and Luna then, Blaise? Not Potter?"</p><p>Kreacher threw a hand over his mouth like he was trying to stop himself from spilling any secrets, or like he was in shock that Draco and Hermione knew that they were not at Grimmauld Place like Luna had said.</p><p>"No, sir, no!" Kreacher shook his head. "They wants me to take you to the Lovegood house, sir."</p><p>Draco clicked his tongue and nodded. "Right."</p><p>It was silent for a moment. Hermione could hear the clogs working inside of Draco's mind, like he was thinking about whether to go or not to. Hermione didn't blame him. He was going to figure out the whole truth of Blaise's involvement, or non-involvement, in his mother's death. But could he, <em>they</em>, even trust Luna anymore? What if this was a trap?</p><p>"Let's go then, elf." Draco sighed, stepping towards Kreacher and placing a large hand on his shoulder.</p><p>Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes.</p><p>"Really? You're just going to go without asking any more questions?" She raised a brow towards him, which he sneered at.</p><p>"If your mother died and there was a person who might have the slightest inkling of what might have happened, wouldn't you be keen to know?" Draco said, shrugging like he didn't care whether he was walking to a trap or not.</p><p>"Right well—"</p><p>"Just shut up and stay put, alright?" Draco sighed.</p><p>Hermione flinched.</p><p>Then they disappeared with a crack.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione read her book by Margret Atwood for three hours, finished it, then started another book she had already read three times before, simply to pass time and to stop anxiety from clawing at her throat at the thought of Draco being gone for so long.</p><p>She closed the book after only forty minutes, realising she hadn't been taking in any of the words and set it on the coffee table beside her cup of tea that she had let turn cold.</p><p>Hermione suddenly thought about how the only times she ever went upstairs was when she showered, other than that, it felt like somewhere she didn't even know. She remembered vaguely exploring the rooms and loitering inside of them looking for clues, but all she found was old sketches drawn by a young Draco and the Slytherin Locket wand beneath Regulus Black's bed. Draco had yelled at her and told her to never go inside those rooms again, so she didn't.</p><p>She continued to sleep on the sofa, not even bothering to transfigure it into a bed, because what was the point? She would have hoped by now, that Draco would've offered her to reside in one of the spare bedroom's—but he didn't. Even she couldn't blame him for <em>not</em> offering, one was owned by his dead mother and the other owned by his dead second cousin. </p><p>The sofa was comfortable enough to sleep, so she'd remain there.</p><p>Hermione stood and trudged upstairs, finding a sense of chill running over her body as she felt the warming charm she had cast in the living room dissolving more and more as she rose higher.</p><p>The only light on the upper floor came from the tinted-yellow chandelier in the middle of the ceiling, which was covered in a speckle of grey cobwebs and cracked holes. Hermione's eyes lingered on the sketches as she walked, her eyes locking for one moment on the sketch she had seen weeks ago, where Draco had written "<em>mudblood</em>" next to what seemed to be her face, but had been crossed through and replaced with "<em>a smart witch</em>." She scoffed and continued walking. </p><p>Each door to each bedroom was closed, but her feet carried her to the door closest to the bathroom and she pushed it open.</p><p>Regulus' room looked as exactly as it did the day she found the wand. Bare and void of any life. She used her wand to light a small, half-burnt candle on the top of the dusty dresser and took another step inside, noticing a small lamp by the floor and flicking it on. The bed was still barren of any sheets, and the floor lay a mess of parchment, quills, and books. While the room still smelt faintly of Dark Magic, it was becoming less pungent. Maybe Hermione was just getting used to the smell, after being near Draco for so long.</p><p>She scoffed at her thoughts and sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs and placing her wand on-top of her thigh. It vibrated just slightly, as if familiar with its surroundings, which gave Hermione a small feeling of warmth, hope, familiarity. Maybe the wand knew it's maker resided here, or maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her. </p><p>Hermione felt herself growing sleepy, and let her body fall back until her head fell against the wall behind the bed with a gentle thud. She took a deep breath and was suddenly compelled to cry.</p><p>She hadn't cried in a while, she never had <em>time</em> to. Between worrying about Hogwarts, Harry and Ron, Luna, Voldemort, and the whole situation surrounding Draco, Blaise, Pansy and Theo—Hermione<em> never had time to cry. </em></p><p>There was a lot she could cry about. <em>Too</em> much. So much that it all swirled in her brain and came crashing down on her at once, right here in Regulus' bedroom. Her chest began to twinge with the feeling of dread, the same feeling of dread that had made her pack her things and depart Hogwarts in the first place. Hermione decided she felt disconnected from the world. For all she knew, Hogwarts could have been burnt to the ground and she wouldn't have been known about it. She wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing, would knowing what's going on ruin everything? Would knowing what's going on make her want to leave?</p><p>She huffed and plucked her wand from her thigh. She hadn't used a great deal of magic recently, not having the need to other than for cooking and cleaning or throwing hexes at Draco when he annoyed her. Hermione took a deep breath and focused, waved her wand, and successfully conjured multiple Daily Prophets, dating back to last month.</p><p>She read them over four times each. By the end of it, she was crying even more. Not from sadness, not from fear or pain, but from <em>frustration</em>. There was hardly anything, absolutely hardly anything. There was the article about the Wards the shop keeper had mentioned, and one small article where Rita Skeeta had interviewed four parents of wizards who had been pulled from Hogwarts due to the fear of <em>"The Carrow Twins punishments."</em></p><p>And then of course, the updates surrounding the <em><b>"Run-Away Death-Eater Draco Malfoy."</b></em></p><p>
  <b>
    <em>HUNT FOR MALFOY HEIR STILL UNDERWAY. HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WIZARD? LAST SPOTTED IN EXMOUTH BEFORE CHRISTMAS. THEODORE NOTT AND LUCIUS MALFOY WILL GIVE MULTIPLE REWARDS IF FOUND.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>That was the last article a week or so ago, surrounding anything to do with her worries. She pursed her lips together and threw the papers into the messy pile at the edge of Regulus' room, and pulled her knees up to her chin.</p><p>Why was the Ministry being so secretive? There was a War happening underneath Hermione's nose and the Ministry were acting as if nothing was happening. And, there was not one page asking the public to find <em>her</em>. Not one wizard had set out to find <em>her</em>. She had told Luna to tell mcgonagall that she was safe, but had she even <em>seen</em> her to tell her? Could she even trust Luna?</p><p>Could she trust anyone?</p><p>Hermione felt two more tears slipping from the edges of her eyes when a loud voice broke her serenity.</p><p>"Stop doing that."</p><p>Hermione turned her gaze to see Draco shouldering the door frame, his arms crossed. She first noticed the small trail of red blood leaking from somewhere beneath his white hair and trailing down his neck and beneath his collar, and then his bruised knuckles.</p><p>"Stop doing what?" Hermione asked, her voice rather plain.</p><p>"Crying." Draco sighed, huffing when he pushed himself away from the doorway to stride over to her. She felt the mattress dipping where his weight fell onto it. "Rose Waterlily does not cry, that's weak and foolish."</p><p>"But i'm not Rose Waterlily." Hermione shook her head, feeling her brown curls falling into her eyes, she tucked a few pieces behind her ear. "I'm Hermione Granger. I am weak sometimes even if I don't want to be."</p><p>Draco ignored her. "Why are you in this room?"</p><p>Ah, she had forgotten Draco telling her she was forbidden to enter the rooms on the second floor.</p><p>"Why are you bleeding?" She deflected the question and turned her face, resting her cheek on her knees while she spoke. Then, she gasped, remembering where Draco had been and sat right up. "Wait—<em>Blaise</em>—What happened? What did he say?"</p><p>Draco hummed and laced his fingers together, resting them on his lap.</p><p>"We had a fight." Draco shrugged. "And then, we both just started laughing and—"</p><p>"Well then <em>what</em>? What after? What did he say about Narcissa? Did he—"</p><p>"Don't interrupt when I'm speaking." He hissed. Hermione could not decipher whether he was being playful or vicious, so she shut her mouth and held her hands up in surrender. "He didn't kill her. Xenophilius gave him Veritaserum. Luna was telling the truth."</p><p>Hermione licked her bottom lip and thought for a moment. So Luna hadn't been lying about <em>this</em>, as she had about Harry and Ron.</p><p>"I have a headache, anyway—" Draco mumbled, turning to gaze at her. His eyes were tired, strained and glassy. Annoyed, almost, as if he'd rather be anywhere but here. "—Can I tell you more in the morning?"</p><p>Hermione didn't want to wait until the morning, she wanted to know <em>now</em>. She had many questions she wanted to be answered—If not Blaise, then who killed Narcissa? Where was Blaise now residing? But she nodded, and watched as Draco leant his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.</p><p>Hermione thought he had fallen asleep, his chest falling and rising underneath the flickering candle on his right. But when she lifted her hand to use magic to clean the blood from his face and hair, his eyes snapped open and he gripped her wrist in his hand, squeezing it so tightly she thought her bones may snap.</p><p>"What are you doing?" He growled, eyes narrowing on her wand that was half-way in the air.</p><p>"Are you insane?" She tried to shake her wrist free, but he kept it in place. "I was just cleaning the blood from you—"</p><p>"Well don't! Stop acting as if you fucking care, Granger, stop it!" His nails were digging into the skin on the upper-side of her wrist. "Stop all of <em>this</em>! Please, Granger! Go back to hating me—please!"</p><p>Hermione was confused. So fucking confused. Her head began to pound, and her fingers began to shake beneath the force of his hand around her wrist.</p><p>"What's gotten into you?" She shot back. "What happened, Draco? Did Blaise say something—"</p><p>He laughed bitterly. "My visit today simply reminded me of who I was. Of who I am. It reminded me i'm getting caught in a trap with you, when you make me want to kiss you and touch you and fuck you, it's all a fucking trap."</p><p>Hermione finally retched her hand free from his grip and pushed against his chest with her fist. </p><p>Rage fell over her like a tidal wave, coating her in ire.</p><p>"A <em>trap</em>?" Hermione raised a brow and threw her head back to to laugh. "A fucking trap? You think I wanted this? You think I wanted any of this, Draco? You think I wanna be trapped here with you?"</p><p>"Then go!" He screamed, face levelling inches away from her own. "Then fucking leave, Hermione! Stop making me—Stop being so beau—Just stop acting like you care about me, because you shouldn't! It's not normal to care about someone like me and you know it!"</p><p>Hermione knew something must have happened. Blaise, Luna or Kreacher must have said <em>something</em> to remind Draco of '<em>Who he was</em>'. Of what he had before now; his mother and father and a place in the Dark Army. All he had now was this dusty old safe-house, and her. Or maybe the rage had come from the Dark Magic seeping through the walls in this room. Hermione couldn't be sure of anything when it came to Draco anymore. He was simply a yo-yo of emotions, back and force with the same old shit time and time again. </p><p>"You're fucking insane, you know that? Godric you're fucking crazy!" Hermione yelled back, refusing to let him override her. "Two nights ago you were crying saying that you were a good person, that you wanted to be my friend! Was that all a lie? Do you really just view me as some disgusting Mudblood you can dip your fingers into when you get bored? I am more than that!"</p><p>"That's the problem, Granger." He spoke through his teeth, sneering as if he had never felt rage like this before. "I don't. I don't view you like that and that's the fucking problem!"</p><p>"Fine!" Hermione threw her hands up in the air. "Then stop acting as if your my best-friend one day, then like you could watch me die and not even care the next, because it's crazy!"</p><p>Draco scoffed and reached out to touch her face but she shoved his hands away from her and stumbled back on the bed.</p><p>"I fucking hate everything about you." Draco replied, running a tongue over his bottom lip. "I hate you even more now I don't hate you like I <em>should</em>."</p><p>Hermione couldn't understand him. How was she meant to understand him? He flew backwards and forwards between emotions so quickly she was beginning to get whiplash.</p><p>"what happened to that sad little speech you gave the other day, what happened to the Draco who was beginning to care?" She asked, her voice suddenly quiet.</p><p>Draco laughed bitterly again and stood from the bed, sending a cruel glare in Hermione's direction as he headed for the door. </p><p>"Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots." Draco spoke, lingering by the door.</p><p>Hermione studied him for one moment. One side of his face was engulfed by the orange glow of the candle and the other rid in the white, painful murk of the light from the lampshade. Like good and evil, a visual display of how she felt towards him—evil and hatred fuelled by innocence and teenage lust. Like a devil and an angel, pulling him backwards and forwards and twisting his mind.</p><p>"Just stop caring." He sighed, stalking away and disappearing into the dark hallway.</p><p>Hermione wanted to scream.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Twenty-Five.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione woke still laying on the bed inside of Regulus’s bedroom.</p><p>The room was rather warm and the soft pungent smell of vanilla continued to trickle from the candle on the dresser beside the bed. Her head was fuzzy with the reminiscences of sleep, but she was aware that the bed, that had been completely bare, was now draped in soft blankets and fluffy pillows. She could feel the warming charm, that she had not cast, buzzing through the room to contain her goosebumps.</p><p>She hated knowing that Draco had screamed at her and then covered her in blankets to keep her warm. She hated the fact it made her somewhat <em>happy</em>, filling her chest with the feeling of safety and beatitude. Because it was not normal, it was not what Draco should’ve been doing–If he was going to tell her he wished she would stop caring, shouldn’t <em>he</em> stop caring too?</p><p>Hermione began to make her way downstairs, finding it rather strange she didn’t wake up on the sofa by the fire. It felt as if she had broken the routines, the rules and regulations silently set by her and Draco when they arrived here three months ago. She told herself to not fall asleep up there again.</p><p>The door to Narcissa’s old room was shut tight, and Hermione knew Draco was most likely curled into a ball on her bed, hugging one of her dusty pillows. As she crossed it, she almost felt tempted to open the door and comfort him. To hug him, kiss him and tell him everything was fine, but it wasn’t, so why should she bother to lie.</p><p>Hermione knew the way he had treated her the night previously was cruel and simply malicious. And besides, wouldn’t it look like she <em>cared</em> too much if she waltzed into the room to swattle him?</p><p>Hermione scoffed and huffed all the way down into the kitchen, cursing under her breath as she put her wand on the table and poured herself a glass of water, sipping it while she peered out of the window.</p><p>February had extinguished itself with a rush of cold winds and one last downpour of sleet and March arrived, bringing fluffy clouds and bright flowers along with it.</p><p>Hermione was almost glad to bid farewell to the sub-zero temperatures, for once. Winter had always been her favourite season, but she relished in the idea of the cold departing, along with all the horrid memories it had created in its rampage.</p><p>Silence rang through Hermione’s surroundings as she stared at the blooming daffodils at the base of the window. Until, she heard a soft hoot coming from the kitchen table and turned to see Molack sitting prettily on the edge of the chair, her soft white feathers consumed by the yellow rays of the spring sun gleaming in through the window.</p><p>Hermione had been so busy worrying about Draco’s issues, that she had forgotten to pay any mind to her response to Harry and Ron. Did they even <em>deserve</em> a response? She thought that maybe they didn’t. Hermione felt torn whether she should continue to care about them in a way they clearly did not care about her. However, she was Hermione Granger and the memories of her friendship with Harry and Ron slipped inside of her mind, and she quickly scrambled to write a letter before Draco woke up and tried to stop her.</p><p>She wrote it with slightly shaky hands and watched as Moclack flew out of the window happily, disappearing into the sky until she was just a small dot amongst the fluffy clouds and turn on her heels, sinking into the chair on the dining table.</p><p>Like clockwork, her fingers plucked up her wand. She twirled it in her fingers, enjoying the way the Locket-part of the wand, which she previously believed to be a jewel, glimmered beneath the yellow light. The pads of her fingers ran across the black elm-wood and she suddenly thought about how it had darkened in colour after being subjected to the Drink of Despair inside the cave.</p><p>She had tried to block out any memory of Regulus' death to avoid feeling responsible for it. </p><p>Yet, her mind suddenly dropped into a casualty of different ideologies and queries, the main question poising her mind; what charms did the Drink of Despair actually create, other than the blazing fire that led to Regulus’ death?</p><p>She sat for a moment, unable to think of something plausible until her stomach rumbled so loudly that she jumped in her seat.</p><p>Hunger had slipped Hermione's thoughts and it quickly dawned on her that she was starving. But, the cupboards and fridge were bare, only sporting a few pieces of bread and half a bottle of milk. Normally, wizards like were Draco were accustomed to House-Elves bringing them food, but wizards like Hermione, Muggle-Borns, would regularly shop at a supermarket as many of them were not keen on having a House-Elf running around the home for them.</p><p>Hermione thought her mother would rather die than let a House-Elf wait on her hand and foot. </p><p>The thought of Draco shopping at a supermarket had made Hermione double over in laughter when he arrived at the Safe-House with a carrier bag of food for the first time, but he had insisted it was food given to him by the Lovegood’s when removing the trace. It made sense, it was just the less-amusing option.</p><p>She continued to think about the Drink of Despair and the spells Regulus and thrown at the wand after the thought of Draco pushing around a shopping-trolly slipped her mind. </p><p>
  <em>"Praesidium pythonissam.”</em>
</p><p>The spell translated to protect the Witch. Would the charms be something useful if Hermione was ever in a life or death situation? Could it protect her in ways other wands could not Hermione thought for a moment, and then something in her mind seemed to snap.</p><p> If this was really a wand with charms and unruly powers...would it be possible to conjure food from thin air if she was desperate for it? </p><p>Gritting her teeth, she carefully thought aboutThe five Principal Exceptions to Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration. It was impossible to make food out of <em>nothing</em>, she could conjure foods if she knew where they were, but it was always impossible to create it from nothing.</p><p>She held her wand in a deathly grip and pointed it towards the dining table, closing her eyes and thinking so hard of an apple her brain began to rattle. Her wand vibrated in her hand, sending familiar shockwaves of magical energy through her veins and into her heart.</p><p>And sure enough, when she opened her eyes, a green apple was sitting on the surface of the table, glimmering under the light.</p><p>–</p><p>An hour later, Hermione was standing by the sink washing a few empty dishes from the food she had already consumed. Now, on the table lay three lemon-pancakes and a full English breakfast consisting of sausages, beans, an egg and french toast.</p><p>Truthfully, Hermione hadn’t prepared food for Draco out of the kindest of her heart, he didn’t deserve it, but it was merely a way to practice the new conjuring aspect of her wand.</p><p>Draco didn’t come downstairs for another hour, so Hermione had to place not one but <em>two</em> spells on the food to keep it warm. </p><p>When he did appear in the kitchen, his silk pyjamas had been swapped for a plaid bed shirt and matching trousers, in a pine and obsidian colour. Hermione couldn't help but admit she was slightly doleful by this, as she often became gleeful watching his silver necklace pool in his collarbones through the buttons of his silk shirt. Yet, green was always his most suited colour, so the new pyjamas were doing him almost as much justice.</p><p>Hermione was pretending to wash dishes in the sink when he stalked in, a sneer already written on his features. His face flashed for a moment when his eyes pattered across the breakfast, but he quickly closed his expression like stone.</p><p>“Why did you cook?” He asked, awkwardly sliding into the chair in front of the plate.</p><p>Hermione shrugged and danced her wand in her fingers to send the clean dishes back into the cupboards.</p><p>“I didn’t,” She said truthfully. “So don’t feel <em>flattered</em>, or anything.”</p><p>Draco stared at her for a moment, his tired features adorned by soft lines around his eyes indicating his annoyance, but Hermione ignored it. He looked down at the food but refused to touch it–If stubborn was a person, it would take the form of Draco Malfoy.</p><p>“What do you mean you <em>didn’t?</em>” He raised an eyebrow and peered down at the food. “You went to one of those muggle shops for food?”</p><p>“A supermarket.”</p><p>“Yes, <em>that</em>.”</p><p>“No, I didn’t, actually, you would have heard me leave.” Hermione shrugged again, hating the awkwardness that was lingering in the air.</p><p>“And what is this strange assortment of foods, anyway? Beans and egg sharing the same plate?” He poked at the yolk of the egg with his finger and shivered. “Are you deranged?”</p><p>“It’s an English Breakfast, Draco, don’t tell me you’ve never—“</p><p>“Some wizarding families don’t eat, what I'm assuming is muggle food like this, Hermione.” He quirked.</p><p>Hermione was quickly reminded of the feasts the elves would make for the students at Hogwarts for breakfast and it dawned on her that Draco wouldn’t be used to foods she grew up eating at home.</p><p>“So what, did Kreacher stop by and cook if you didn’t?” He pressed on, looking annoyed she wouldn’t answer his simple question. “However, I don’t think that cunt of an elf could even butter toast with its slimy fingers.”</p><p>“I conjured it,” She said simply and nodded towards the plate as she decided to rewash her glass of water for the second time. “Just eat it, for Merlin’s sake’s, you look ravenous.”</p><p>Draco huffed but picked up a spoonful of warm beans and began inhaling the food—almost as if he hadn’t eaten food so <em>good</em> in a while.</p><p>“What do you <em>mean</em> you conjured it?” He gulped down a bite of an egg in the midst of his sentence. “You can’t conjure food, it’s agains—“</p><p>“It may not be possible with a <em>normal </em>wand,” Hermione picked up her wand from the side of the sink and closed her eyes until a glass jar of milk appeared from thin air. She heard Draco let out a little gasp. “But this wand is not <em>normal</em>.”</p><p>Draco peered at her, still swallowing down the food as she stepped closer to the table and sat down opposite him, trying to avoid his sparkling eyes.</p><p>“That’s—“</p><p>“Weird? Impossible?” Hermione interrupted. “I know, but don’t you remember the letter, <em>‘Activate the Charms’</em>, and then the spell he cast on it in the cave, <em>‘protect the witch.’</em> What better protection than keeping me well-fed in case of starvation?”</p><p>Draco hummed and placed his fork beside his near-empty plate. He interlocked his fingers and held them against his lips, as if he was deep in thought.</p><p>Hermione hated moments like <em>this</em>, when she couldn’t read his expression. When he closed himself off to nothing more than a marble-statue, unwilling to spare even once ounce of emotion.</p><p>She knew he was embarrassed. He had lashed out at her for merely trying to help him. She reminded herself to question him about <em>that</em> later, and what had been said at the Lovegood’s for him to act so poisonous.</p><p>Yet, she knew when he was embarrassed, he shut himself off.</p><p>When he was afraid of looking like he cared, he turned himself to stone.</p><p>“That’s rather useful, actually.” Draco said, cocking his head to the side.</p><p>Interest began to radiate from his skin like steam even though he was clearly trying to repress it.</p><p>“I see Regulus used the locket to the best of his advantage, I mean, who else would think to do <em>this</em> with something he failed to destroy?” Draco hummed, his fingers still blocking the bottom half of his face. “What other charms did he place on it?”</p><p>Hermione picked her wand up and studied it.</p><p>“I don’t know, yet.” She said, trying to think of something plausible but nothing direct came to her mind.</p><p>“It can’t be that hard to figure out, for fuck sake, are you stupid?” Draco reached out to grab the wand, but he pulled his hand back to his chest the moment his fingers touched it, screaming as if it had burnt him.</p><p>It had never done <em>that</em> before. He had touched it plenty of times.</p><p>Hermione realised seconds before his fingers reached the wand, the brief thought of <em>‘I wish he wouldn’t snatch things’</em> had trickled into her mind.</p><p>“What the fuck?” Draco growled, inspecting his hand, in which there was now a small burn mark, in the shape of one of the symbols engraved into the locket. </p><p>Hermione smirked, enjoying seeing him put in his place.</p><p>“I guess that’s one of them,” Hermione sighed happily, relishing in Draco’s angered whimpers as he used his own wand to soothe the burn. “If I don’t want someone to touch it, they can’t.”</p><p>“Stupid fucking thing!” He huffed, watching the seared-symbol fade back into the same colour of ivory to match the rest of his skin. “I mean—That’ll stop some Death-Eaters getting their hands on it to use it against you…”</p><p>Hermione hummed in agreement and let the air fall silent around them once more. Draco continued to stare blankly at his plate before pushing it away from him.</p><p>The air was thick with annoyance, she could feel it radiating from Draco’s skin. She knew he was annoyed because she was refusing to react to his cruel words, because she was acting as if it didn’t happen.</p><p>But why <em>should</em> she react?</p><p>
  <em>“Just stop caring!”</em>
</p><p>So she would. In more than one way. She would stop caring about him when he was hurt and she would stop caring about the way he treated her, good or bad.</p><p>If he decided to kiss her again—she would act as if she didn’t care.</p><p>If he decided to roar at her and tell her she was worthless–she would act as if she didn’t care.</p><p>Draco fiddled with his fingers before sending the plate into the sink, in which he gave another flick of his wand and the plate was washed and dried and sent back to its home in the cupboard.</p><p>“I’m sure you are wondering what Blaise had to say regarding my mother,” Draco spoke, his voice so quiet Hermione almost struggled to hear him. It was laced with a certain sense of desperation for her to hear him out. </p><p>Hermione scoffed bitterly and rolled her eyes to stare at the ceiling. He really was a yo-yo. He was so unbelievably pillar to post that it was giving her whiplash. One minute, he didn’t want anything to do with her; the next, he was almost desperate to confide in her.</p><p>And although she was more than curious about the events that entailed for Draco to arrive home with the crimson stains on his skin, she would act as if she didn’t care to hear it.</p><p>“I don’t give a goblin's ass.” Hermione shrugged, standing from the dining table and heading towards the living room, where she fell into the armchair.</p><p>Draco followed suit, his shoulders squared and hunched with exasperation.</p><p>“Oh don’t be so childish, Granger.” He said, standing by the sofa but not yet sitting down. "You really are such an ornery mule."</p><p>He loomed over her like a turret, and if Hermione hadn’t already grown to know him so <em>well</em> she might have felt intimidated. But this was Draco Malfoy, and she had grown to know he was a sheep hiding in a wolves clothing.</p><p>He was a coward <em>desperate</em> for power. It was always his way or no way. Hermione knew it pained him for her to not sink into the traps set inside the pillars of his mind.</p><p>“I don’t care,” Hermione repeated, drawing her eyes away from him and staring blankly at the fire.</p><p>The flames were beginning to burn out.</p><p>“Ah,” Draco growled, throwing his hands up in despair. “This is you trying to act <em>smart</em> because I fought with you yesterday, isn’t it?”</p><p>Hermione bit the inside of her lip and continued to stare at the fire in silence. Reacting to him would only give him what he wanted—power.</p><p>“Fine, <em>fine</em>,” Draco said, tucking his hands into his pockets. Hermione could see him from the corner of her eye. “Be a fucking cunt, Granger, please!”</p><p>He leant down over her shoulder from behind her and breathed into her ear.</p><p>“I like you best when you’re being a cunt.”</p><p>Hermione felt her hands rolling into balls on her lap. Dear God she loathed him. Dear fucking God did she want nothing more than to turn and punch him in the nose to put him in his place.</p><p>But she refrained, feeling a sense of relief yet emptiness when he moved from her ear, his feet pattering on the floorboards as he headed for the hallway.</p><p>“Oh, and Granger?” He shot over his shoulder. She still did not turn to look at him. “Xenophilius wants to speak to you, <em>today</em>, so make yourself look somewhat human.”</p><p>He disappeared and Hermione heard his heavy footsteps above her before a door slammed shut. Then it was silent with nothing more than the sounds of water against the basin upstairs, indicating Draco was showering.</p><p>Hermione cocked her head to the side as she mindlessly used her wand to light the fire back to its roaring flames.</p><p>Why would Xenophilius want to speak to <em>her?</em> She hadn’t seen Xenophilius since the day she and Draco received the letters from Kreacher weeks ago.</p><p>Hermione began to wonder if something had happened yesterday to deeply put a strain on the faculties of her situation. Did Draco reveal something regarding her that would allow Xenophilius to doubt her loyalty to Harry or the Order?</p><p>She shook her head and laughed. Overthinking was something that had nearly destroyed her many times in the past, so she folded up all the negative outcomes of the looming visit to the Lovegood’s and put them in the back of her mind.</p><p>—</p><p>Xenophilius placed a mug of tea in front of her and sat opposite Draco, his beige robes falling over the chair and onto the floor in a train of warmth.</p><p>“How have you been, Miss Granger?” He asked, his worried eyes glancing up at her for a moment before he motioned for Draco to place his bare arm on the table. “You look...strained.”</p><p>Hermione studied his features before responding. Something was slightly off, a negative constellation running through his blue eyes. Her heart quickly sprung, falling into a matted pace of worries regarding the war.</p><p>Had Harry been hurt? Had Ron been captured? Did Voldemort penetrate Hogwarts earlier than she had expected? Was he worried Hermione had become a traitor to the side of light?</p><p>“I guess I’m okay,” Hermione responded, turning her eyes away as Xenophilius sank the green blade into the skin around Draco’s mark.</p><p>Draco hissed beside her and patched his hand onto her thigh. She ignored the way her stomach twinged as his nails dug into her skin.</p><p>“Did something happen, Mr Lovegood?” Hermione asked, worryingly. “Is there a reason you wanted to speak with me?”</p><p>“I’m simply curious if you have been in contact with Mr Potter and the Weasley boy, recently?” He asked, peering up at her once more as he addressed Draco’s mark like clockwork.</p><p>Hermione tilted her head, resembling a lost puppy as she curated her response.</p><p>Did he know she had written them two letters and gained a response? Did he know that she knew of their hunt for Horcruxes?</p><p>“Why do you ask?” Hermione pursed her lips together, wincing when the hold on her thigh tightened.</p><p>“Mr Potter and the Weasley paid me a visit a few days ago, they seemed very—“</p><p>“Harry and Ron were here?”</p><p>“Four-Eyes and Ginger-Cunt were here?”</p><p>Hermione and Draco spoke in a bitter unison, to which Xenophilius chuckled and turned his eyes back to his blade to coat it in the orange cream.</p><p>“Indeed they were,” He said, voice strained. “Of course I didn’t mention your whereabouts without your consent, but they did ask me if I had heard from you, or seen you.”</p><p>Hermione’s stomach twinged again.</p><p>Draco hissed as the blade sunk into his skin once more. “Yeah! They seemed to <em>really</em> care about your whereabouts in that le—“</p><p>“Are they okay? Dead God I—I wish—How are they?”</p><p>“They are doing well.” Xenophilius responded. His voice was more than careful, almost as if she was afraid of exposing something he shouldn't. </p><p>“What did you tell them?” Hermione asked, sitting up higher in her chair, to which Draco clutched her thigh more feverishly. “Did you tell them I was with Draco?”</p><p>Xenophilius raised a brow at her through a pointed, torn expression.</p><p>“I did not,” He sighed, “I was going to ask you today, to make things transparent, what is your occupation with Draco?”</p><p>Hermione and Draco both halted and stared at him with blank, confused gazes.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, absentmindedly brushing Draco’s hand away from her thigh.</p><p>“That’s none of your business, Xeno, really.” Draco huffed, but his voice was not laced with malice.</p><p>“Oh, it <em>is</em> my business, Draco.” He said, nodding his head so that strands of blonde fell over his eyes.</p><p>“It’s not—“</p><p>“It is!” Xenophilius yelled, a wave of sudden anger compelling his body. He pulled the blade from Draco’s skin and threw it on the table. “As long as I am removing the trace, giving you food, allowing you to have petty little fights with your friends in my kitchen like you did yesterday, it is <em>my</em> business!”</p><p>Hermione gulped. Before Draco could explode, she placed a hand on his thigh. She felt his muscles relax under the warmth of her palm.</p><p>“When I have <em>The Chosen One</em> knocking on my door asking me if I know anything about Hermione Granger, who seems to be in your possession, it’s my business!”</p><p>
  <em>In his Possession?</em>
</p><p>“I’m not in his <em>possession</em>, Mr Lovegood.” Hermione sighed, placing a hand on the table. “I told you before, we have stayed in each other's company for the safety of both of us.”</p><p>“People are becoming aware of your disappearance, Miss Granger.” Xenophilius sighed, his sudden outbreak of rage slowly dissolving as if he had no energy to keep it up.</p><p>Hermione raised an eyebrow. From what she had heard, nobody seemed to care. There was no mention of her in Daily Prophet over the last few weeks, and the last time she had received an owl from anyone at Hogwarts was the week she had left—three months ago.</p><p>Xenophilius stood and opened a kitchen draw, searching through it, sending miscellaneous items falling to the ground in his search.</p><p>He pulled out a paper and tossed it onto the table. It was this morning's Daily Prophet. Something in her heart seemed to lodge.</p><p>“The third page,” Xenophilius told her, sitting back down.</p><p>On the third page, was a small black and white moving picture, playing a photograph of <em>her</em> on a loop. It was an old photograph, the one of her hugging Harry inside of the Triwizarding Tent all those years ago.</p><p>Below it, in small yet bold lettering;</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Rumours state that Potter’s Mudblood has been killed or abducted from Hogwarts School of Wizardry.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>Hermione’s hands shook as she began to read the article below it. She could feel Draco peering over her shoulder.</p><p>
  <em>Hermione Granger, also more famously known as Potter’s Mudblood is said to have disappeared from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in November. </em>
  <em>Friends of Miss Granger, who don’t want to be named, are urgently worried about her safety</em>
  <em>. </em>
  <em>On hearing of the young Witch's disappearance, I took it upon myself to write this article, so that Miss Granger can be found safely.</em>
</p><p>“Found Safely? Is this Skeeter mule joking? Safely my ass! More like she took this as free reign to get a juicy article!” Draco spat, hands balling into fists.</p><p>“Shut up, I’m trying to read!”</p><p>
  <em>Miss Granger is known to be Best-Friends with Mr Harry Potter, The Chosen One, or The boy who lived. All titles are applicable. </em>
  <em>It is highly likely she has escaped Hogwarts after deciding she would rather follow Potter, who has also not been seen for nearly a </em>
  <b>
    <em>year</em>
  </b>
  <em>, rather than following the Ministry’s rules to keep students at the school while tensions between You-Know-Who and Potter begin to rise.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>After all, Miss Granger is known to be a rule-breaker! Just ask Viktor Krum how his late-night strolls after curfew with Miss Granger were!</em>
</p><p>“Oh God, all that stuff about Krum and you weren’t actually true, were they? He’s like, <em>ancient</em>!” Draco interrupted again, fingers jabbing at the paper. “Salazar, this woman is trying to paint you like some monster.”</p><p>“I mean I did lock her in a jar for months—“</p><p>“What?” Draco and Xenophilius spoke at the same time.</p><p>“Later—“ Hermione waved her hand in dismal, deciding it wouldn't be the best time to tell the pair of them the reason why Rita Skeeta hated her so much.</p><p>
  <em>Her friends, unnamed, hope Miss Granger can be returned to the school safely. </em>
  <em>There have been many disappearances of young witches and wizards in the recent months, one being the heir to the Malfoy name (see missing persons information on page 13), and it is in the Ministry’s fears they are going into hiding.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>If you have any information on Miss Granger, or any other hiding youth's, please do send an owl to the address below.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>— Rita Skeeter, The Daily Prophet.</em>
</p><p>“So what, she’s saying is your stupid little Gryffindor friends have baited you out for leaving? Are they stupid?” Draco huffed, grasping the paper from her hands and throwing it away from her. “Don’t they know better than that? With all of <em>this </em>going on? This will bring more harm than good—“</p><p>“Of course they didn’t you blithering idiot!” Hermione growled. “Rita is an animagus! You know that perfectly well, don’t you Draco? Seeing as you used to feed lies into her little beetle ears back in fourth year!”</p><p>Draco’s mouth fell shut. Xenophilius stared at her with a confused, dazed expression but did not speak.</p><p>“She’s obviously got her ugly little beetle body inside of Hogwarts and is listening in on what the students have to say!” Hermione continued. “And she hates <em>me</em> for more than one reason, so of course she’d take any opportunity to twist what they are saying about me, it makes for the perfect article.”</p><p>It fell silent for a few moments, only the sound of the spring-wind behind the window and the sound of birds chirping rang through the air.</p><p>“This is why, Miss Granger, I need to know whether it is in my duty to protect your whereabouts if someone happened to come knocking for you...or <em>asks</em> me about you again .” Xenophilius sighed, sipping at his own mug of tea. “I need to know that what you two are up to will do no harm to the Order, or to Hogwarts–or for example, my daughter. I need to know you’re staying rightful—“</p><p>“I told you already!” Hermione snapped, growing more and more annoyed at his mistrust. “I would never betray Harry, he’s my best friend. There are reasons for which I cannot discuss why or how I ended up accompanying Draco, but believe me when I say I’m not there for any other reason than…”</p><p>Hermione pursed her lips together. She was here due to blood magic that drew her towards the wand, the anxiety that led her from Hogwarts, and now...her comfort from  v being in the safe-house. That was it. That was really it. She was comfortable and uncomfortable with Draco all at once. Part of her constantly worried about her friends at Hogwarts, Harry and Ron and everything else in between and then other times, she simply enjoyed being alone with Draco.</p><p>Sometimes, just sometimes, his presence was nice.</p><p>“It'll make sense, eventually, I’m sure.” Draco quirked, pulling his arm down from the table and sliding it back into his jumper, wincing ever so slightly.</p><p>Draco was speaking about the wand. They agreed to tell as little people as possible in case it became an item of interest to not only Death-Eaters but The Dark Lord himself.</p><p>They <em>had</em> told Luna, but that was only so that they could ask Kreacher to recover the letters. Luna may have told her father, but from the way Xenophilius was speaking, she assumed she had kept their secret.</p><p>Xenophilius was silent for a moment, taking in what he was being told. His eyes glanced across them, soaking in the pale spring light seeping through the window and illuminating his pale face in a cast of blue.</p><p>His eyes landed on a frame on the wall beside Hermione. He studied it, his annoyed expression cracking, drenching his face in a wave of understanding and placidness.</p><p>Hermione quickly realised it was a photograph of Luna and her mother.</p><p>Pandora Lovegood was rather beautiful, with eyes the colour of onyx and long curly black hair. Luna had taken half of her mother’s features and half her fathers. She adorned curly hair but it was dirty blonde, and her skin was a gentle mix of brown and white, with long eyelashes and smile of her father. She wondered if Xenophilius always looked at the photograph for comfort in stressful times like he was doing now.</p><p>“Where is Luna?” Hermione asked, watching something flicker inside the blue ring inside of Xenophilius’ eye. “Is she at Grimmauld Place, with Kreacher?”</p><p>Hermione felt a foot wrapping around her own beneath the table, and didn’t have to look towards Draco to know he was wearing an impatient expression. Hermione had yet to question him on if he had confronted Luna about bluffing, and if he had figured out why she was acting suspiciously.</p><p>“Oh, yes, Luna.” Xenophilius coughed, clearing his throat and turning towards Draco. “She is...not feeling so well.”</p><p>“Right well, we better get going then.” Draco huffed, grabbing Hermione’s wrist and pulling her upwards.</p><p> “Thank you Mr. Lovegood.” Hermione said, nodding towards him. She felt slightly quilty there was still a mug full of tea where she had been sat.</p><p>“Same time next week, Draco?”</p><p>Draco hummed and murmured a small, “Yeah, same time.” Before dragging Hermione out of the door and down the steps till they landed in the ankle-length grass surrounding the chess-rook house.</p><p>The wind fell through Hermione’s hair, sending curly strands of obsidian into her eyes before Draco’s hold on her wrist tightened and they disappeared with a crack.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione felt her feet landing on the pavement and barely had time to process the apparition until Draco was tugging her towards him, and she fell against his chest.</p><p>“Are you okay?” He asked, the hand that wasn’t possessing a deathly grip on her forearm coming up to rest at the base of her neck.</p><p>“W—why wouldn’t I be okay?” Hermione raised a brow, trying to keep a stern face.</p><p>It proved most difficult. Her body automatically fell into his own like they were carved from the same statue and were fitting back together like glue.</p><p>She hated how with one touch, she was putty. She couldn’t let this happen, not <em>anymore</em>. She refused to let him believe she was weak. That she was weak for <em>him.</em></p><p>“He overloaded you with a lot of information back there, Hermione,” Draco spoke, his voice a mixture of concern and pique. “Your breathing went all heavy and I worried you were having another panic attack.”</p><p>The hand at the back of her head tugged at her black hair absentmindedly. His fingers rubbed small circles on her scalp, and although she hated to admit it, her heavy breaths returned to normal after a few seconds.</p><p>“What happened to not caring?” Hermione huffed, trying to rip herself free to stop from falling into his trap of appetence but his grip only tightened. “Or are you that fatuous that it’s only okay for <em>you</em> to show any ounce of worry? Not me towards <em>you</em>?”</p><p>“Exactly!” Draco said, tugging her even closer, if that was possible.</p><p>Hermione thought they must have looked insane, standing wrapped together on the sunny pavement on an empty street.</p><p>“If you care about me then eventually you’ll get hurt…” His hand moved to tip her chin upwards. This way, she couldn’t avoid his eye. “If you start to view me as anyone than a bully and Death-Eater, then...then I’ll hurt you, Hermione.”</p><p>Hermione cursed him inside of her mind.<em> Why was he like this?</em></p><p>“Is this what Blaise said? Is this why you lashed out yesterday?” Hermione asked, ignoring the way the blue ring around Draco’s pupil thinned as her breath ghosted his lips. “Did he say that you will hurt me? Did he say I was too good to be with the likes of you?”</p><p>“Luna,” He whispered, absentmindedly leaning closer to his lips. “She meant no harm—said to tread carefully because you’re <em>‘too good for the world.’ </em>And, maybe she is right. You are too good for the world. You are too good for me.”</p><p>Hermione outwardly scoffed and drew her head backwards despite the force of his fingers on her chin.</p><p>“I’m too good for <em>you?”</em> She spat, but no anger fell through the cracks of her words. “You told me–you reminded me of how <em>bad</em> I was. You taunted me with the ghosts of my past...how I called people names and assumed your mother was cruel—“</p><p>“That’s different and you know it!” He pulled her chin back to where it was. “If you care, Hermione, then—then—“</p><p>“You will hurt me? You already <em>have</em>. I’ll be sad? I already am, <em>was</em>— am!” She fought back, refusing to let him win. “But what, you can care for me? You can care when I panic and cry and when my face is plastered on the Daily Prophet? What happens if it is <em>me</em> who hurts <em>you?</em>”</p><p>“Hermione—“</p><p>“What if I decided to pack my stuff and actually leave like you told me to do? Then <em>what</em>! You will sit here alone and wither away or let yourself be killed by The Dark Lord for betraying him in the name of your Muggle-Loving mother? Huh? No, it won’t work like that!”</p><p>He looked down at her, his face relaxing at her words, as if what she had said finally struck.</p><p>“Don’t I deserve it?” Draco asked, hand going flank against her cheek. His index finger slowly stroked the curve of her jaw. “Don’t I deserve to suffer?”</p><p>Hermione scoffed.</p><p>“If you had asked me this three months ago, I would’ve said yes.” Hermione was deathly aware of how close he had gotten, and how his nose was brushing her own with some sort of desperation. “But now—No. You don’t deserve it.”</p><p>“If I hurt you I’d—“</p><p>She held a finger against his lips, shaking her head.</p><p>Just hours ago she was telling herself to be frank and cruel to him, but here she was, standing as if their bodies were one.</p><p>Maybe she was a yo-yo too.</p><p>“You don’t have to be in this alone, Draco,” Hermione said. “You don’t have to battle the anxiety of war, <em>alone. </em>We are in this together, now.”</p><p>Hermione dropped her finger and replaced it with her lips.</p><p>He hummed into her touch, his hands gripping the sides of her face with impetuosity and pulling her closer as his tongue dipped inside of her mouth in a way that told her, <em>okay, we are together in this.</em></p><p>Hermione hated that he tasted like hope.</p><p>Like a rainbow in a stormcloud and snow in a battlefield, not needed but still casting a shadow of faith inside of her mind.</p><p>He pulled back on her lip with his teeth and groaned when she whimpered.</p><p>“You’re insufferable,” He tugged her lip even harder. Hermione was shocked that she hoped his teeth would draw blood. “And that’s why I’ll always hate you.”</p><p>To Hermione, hate didn’t mean <em>hate</em>, anymore.</p><p>“Good.” She moaned, feeling her knees go weak as he kissed her once more, pressing his tongue against the roof of her mouth.</p><p>Draco’s lips departed her own so he could drag her inside of the safe-house without another word. </p><p>–</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">What have been your favourite scenes in this story so far? I am thinking of getting some fanart drawn!</span>
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  <b>
    <span class="u">Sorry for the lack of update in a few days. I've been having a rough time and it took me while to find some motivation to write this chapter. I am not entirely happy with it, so I apologise if you are disappointed. I promise things in this story are really about to take off...did you catch any hints of what may happen?</span>
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<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Twenty-Six.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">This chapter is nearly 9k words long. Killed me, but it might be my favourite so far. Enjoy.</span>
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</p><p>Draco had drawn a sketch for Hermione–It had been weeks since the last one.</p><p>Hermione held it by the window to soak up some of the light. Her lips twitched into a smile without her even thinking about it. It was a beautiful dove, flying over a small town.</p><p>The bird was shaded to perfection, with large eyes and wide wings, stretching over the dark buildings below.</p><p>In its beak was a Rose.</p><p>Simple, beautiful, hopeful.</p><p>Below it he had written;</p><p>
  <em>Hope can be found in the ugliest of times from the ugliest people.</em>
</p><p>Hermione wasn't sure what it meant, but she fell asleep and dreamt of the Dove; it flew and flew in her brain until it could fly no more.</p><p>—</p><p>The spring sun didn't last for more than three days, because on the following sunday, Hermione woke to the thrashing of rain against the window.</p><p>Spring had brought a storm of gale-force winds and brittle rain. The birds had flown away into their nests to avoid the downpour of hailstones, leaving the morning sounds to nothing but empty squall. Hermione almost felt bitter when she didn't hear birdsong as she woke.</p><p>However, her mind didn't rest on that for long. It was too preoccupied taking in the fact she had woken wrapped inside of a pair of warm arms, her back flank against a chest.</p><p>She closed her eyes tightly, hoping she'd wake up again finding that she was dreaming, but she wasn't dreaming, and she took a deep breath when she realised that Draco had fallen asleep on the sofa behind her.</p><p>He must have transfigured the sofa into some sort of futon, which allowed both of their bodies to fit, but it was still a rather tight squeeze. If Hermione tried to escape his grasp, she'd run the risk of falling onto the floor creating a mighty thud, not only waking Draco but the owl that was sleeping by the fire, her head beneath a white wing.</p><p>Molack had returned two days ago without a letter tied to her leg.</p><p>Hermione simply laid there, listening to the way the rain thrashed against the window with no mercy, and it sent her thoughts into something like poignancy, mirroring the rampage of the wind.</p><p>Over the past few days, since she and Draco slotted together like clockwork on the pavement, she hadn't given much thought into the meaning behind their words.</p><p>
  <em>"You don't have to be alone in this, Draco."</em>
</p><p>What did that make them?</p><p>The words came crashing over her like tidal waves.</p><p>Hermione tried to delve inside the pits of her mind to think of some brittle excuse for which she had fallen asleep peacefully in an ex-Death-Eater's arms. But no excuse came to her mind.</p><p>And sorrowfully, she came to the scarce conclusion that she did in fact have some sort of partiality with the boy who bullied her for years.</p><p><em>You </em>like <em>Draco Malfoy, Hermione.</em></p><p>She hissed, shaking her head against what she thought was a pillow, but quickly came to realise was Draco's bicep, so she stopped wobbling her head and tried to halt the tears pricking at her eyes.</p><p>She felt like a traitor.</p><p>Out of anyone in the world, why did Hermione have to fall for <em>him</em>? She felt as if the God's were punishing her in some way, plucking back all the layers of her Gryffindor courage and sinking her into weakness and penchment with the person who everyone she cared about <em>hated</em>.</p><p>And although she knew this had been a long time coming, from the way he gripped her face at the boathouse and the way he pushed her against the walls during their first week here, she still couldn't quite come to grips with what this situation would create.</p><p>Her classmates and friends were bound to find this spellbinding. Hermione knew that Ginny would hate her, she knew that Ron would more than likely call her a traitor and never speak to her again, she knew that Molly Weasley would probably cry and tell her she was disappointed for falling for someone who bore a Dark-Mark. And if she had to hear someone who had been her mother figure since the day she joined Hogwarts tell her she was disappointed, it would break her heart.</p><p>But she knew that if Draco ever decided to leave, it would tear a hole in her sternum. Because he was there. Even if he wasn't nice or kind. Even if he didn't treat her like a princess and buy her flowers or hold her hand. Even if he called her a cunt and threw sketches of her dead body at her—he was <em>there</em> no matter <em>what</em>.</p><p>If it had been someone else, anyone else; like Ron, or Fred, or Neville or Ginny or even someone like Michael Corner or Adrian Pucey—maybe she'd be lying here with her back against one of <em>their</em> chests. Maybe she'd become reliant on one of <em>them</em>, being locked up in this safe-house with no one else to subject to.</p><p>But it wasn't them. It wasn't Neville or Adrian or even Ron. It was Draco. It had always been Draco, from the moment she spotted his dark frame sitting inside the wonky hotel by the window.</p><p>And, although she hated it, it felt right—In some fucked up way—like he was her Anchor, holding her steady in the storm.</p><p>And she was his rose, a midst of beauty and a symbol for hope in his upheaval.</p><p>—</p><p>Draco prodded his breakfast with his fork and sneered.</p><p>"Sorry Hermione, but what the fuck is that?" He asked, one elbow propped onto the table. "Looks like hippogriff shit."</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes and set her wand aside after conjuring up the last pancake to set beside her breakfast.</p><p>"Seriously?" Hermione huffed with disbelief. "So first of all, you never had a traditional English breakfast but now you've never even heard of black pudding?"</p><p>Draco's head cocked to the side which cast half of his face with grey glum from the window. It pooled in his eyes, making them twinkle.</p><p>"Oh, no—don't tell me Muggles actually eat this stuff? I thought it was a joke Professor Burbage played on us!" He said, seeming flabbergasted. "What is it, <em>blood</em>? No, there's no way I'm touching that."</p><p>He crossed his arms with a half-disgusted half-playful smirk dancing on his lips.</p><p>Hermione was reminded of <em>that</em> lesson, back in third year. It fell back into her mind quite vividly, and she had to clench her stomach to stop herself from taunting Draco of his cruel and childish words.</p><p>
  <em>"Yes, so class, who can tell me what this traditional Muggle food is?"</em>
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  <em>Hermione's hand shot into the air. She ignored the sniggers coming from the tables around her.</em>
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  <em>"That's Black Pudding, also known as Blood pudding! My family eat that with their breakfast every morning. I was never too keen on it, seeing as it consists of pork blood, with pork fat or beef suet, and a cereal, usually oatmeal, but after a few times, the taste became quite nice! It originated in old England and parts of Ireland."</em>
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  <em>She heard an outward scoff from behind her, followed by the voice of Vincent Crabbe.</em>
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  <em>"Of course the Mudblood would know, bet her parents foam at the mouth for horrid foods like that."</em>
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  <em>Hermione bit her tongue and continued to stare at Professor Burbage as she flicked her wand to change the projection echoing on the wall from the book on the floor.</em>
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  <em>Another voice followed suit, loud enough for her to hear but hushed enough to not get in trouble with the Professor.</em>
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  <em>"Ha! Good one, Crabbe!" Draco's voice danced in her ears, and she had to dig her fingers into the wooden desk to stop herself from snapping. "Do you think that's why they are called Mudbloods? Because they eat literal blood?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His band of friends fell into a hushed wave of sniggering laughter and she took a deep breath to ignore their taunts.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Very good, Miss Granger!" Professor Burbage beamed, sending her a wink. "Ten points to Gryffindor!"</em>
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  <em>Hermione took a look up at the projection on the wall, desperately trying to ignore the chants of 'teacher's pet' from the rows behind her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"And who can tell me what this is?" Professor Burbage asked.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione smiled, knowing it was Hermione's mother's favourite food to cook on a Monday evening during the winter break.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her hand shot into the air.</em>
</p><p>"Just because it's not a Pure-Blood standard food like steak or Oysters, it can still be rather tasty," Hermione told him, scooping up a spoonful of beans and gulping them down. "Stop being a twit and just try it."</p><p>Draco shook his head and instead began to eat his egg, but after a moment, she saw him break a tiny part of the black pudding away with his fork and place it into his mouth. He grimaced and turned his nose up, but after a moment he hummed and ate the rest of it.</p><p>Hermione smirked but decided to not gloat in her satisfaction.</p><p>"Draco?" Hermione whispered, suddenly thinking back to her memory of Muggle Studies class.</p><p>It was usually the class in which she was tormented the most. She had expected it, of course, as she was Muggle-Born and knew an awful lot about Muggles. She had grown up around Muggles, raised by Muggles and went to Primary school with Muggle children. Pure-Blood Wizards raised on anti-Muggle beliefs, such as Crabbe and Pansy and even some stuck-up Ravenclaws, often found distaste and humour in her Muggle-Ness. So she was used to it, she just had to grit her teeth and focus on her studies.</p><p>"What now?" He said, looking up at her, his mouth so full of food it made his cheeks puff out. A little like a hamster.</p><p>"Before, you said you tormented me when we were children because you were jealous—" Draco winced like his pride had been stabbed. "—but, did a time come where you actually viewed me as what you called me? Do you still view me as...<em>that</em>?"</p><p>Draco sighed and swallowed his mouthful of food, then proceeded to place his knife and fork onto the table beside his near-empty plate.</p><p>"Do you want me to be truthful?" Draco asked, his tone of voice indifferent.</p><p>Hermione slowly nodded, a sudden troop of goosebumps huddling onto her skin as a draft fell through the crack in the window Draco had forgotten to close after his cigarette.</p><p>"Yes," He said pointedly. "After fourth year, I began to believe what my father said about you and your kind."</p><p><em>Your kind? </em>Hermione crossed her arms and looked at him through a scowl. What was she, an alien? Disrespect and prejudice leaked through the air, falling upon her skin like a curse.</p><p>"Not your kind—well <em>yes</em>, your kind–<em>Mudbloods</em>," Hermione's scowl intensified. "—I mean Muggle-Borns—Salazar's sake Hermione just hear me out, okay?"</p><p>He had two hands in the air, waving them about flagrantly. Hermione looked at him through her nose, trying to seize up whether she should find this situation somewhat amusing or not—Because Draco's face had flushed into a sweet shade of coral, rising up against his cheeks and over his nose, making him look very similar to the time a spider had jumped on his face and he had nearly cried.</p><p>"Remember what I said? I never really <em>cared</em> for blood-status, I heard my father speaking of it at dinner parties and events, but I was too young to understand. I started to see the divide during the first week at Hogwarts, I would come home for term breaks and my Father would ask me,"</p><p>Draco cleared his throat and spoke in a very convincing impression of Lucius Malfoy.</p><p><em>"Ahh, Draco, what type of friends are you making? Hmm yes, None with Muggle Parents, I assume?</em>" Draco cleared his throat again and began talking in his usual voice. "But I never really cared, I thought Dean Thomas was really cool, and I tried to speak to him more than once about the trading cards he used to flash in the Great Hall, but Crabbe told me I mustn't befriend him because he was a Mudblood."</p><p>Hermione chuckled. "Dean is Half-Blood, though—"</p><p>"Really? Shit well, anyway—"</p><p>Hermione continued to watch as he spoke, lathering in the way his words were somewhat rushed and miscounted like he was trying rather hard to not offend her. But why <em>didn't</em> he want to offend her, all of a sudden? Hermione somewhat loathed the carefulness dripping in his tone.</p><p>"—I never cared. My mother would often remind me to ignore my father's questions, the ones asking if I had upset the Mudbloods that term, especially–" He did quote marks with his fingers as he spoke the next words. "<em>'Potter's Mudblood</em>', I always ignored it, up until the day you punched me in the face. After that, my dislike to you grew stronger, so strong to the point where I would look at you and actually think '<em>wow, she really does act as filthy as my father tells me she is'</em> or <em>'I'm glad she never befriended me, I would've got Muddy</em>', and it sank in, it etched into my social constructs and I actually began to care about Blood Status."</p><p>Hermione tried to not feel hurt. But she couldn't help but be hurt. Part of her didn't care at all, because she had believed Draco had changed for the most part, but part of her really really really cared because she blamed herself for being so stubborn towards him and causing such ideologies to leak into his brain. She had to bite the inside of her lip and remind herself that he wasn't the victim —<em>she</em> was.</p><p>"And, this sounds stupid—awful and selfish but," Draco took a deep breath, his eyes lingering on Hermione's face. "When I discovered the photos of my mother and Joseph, when I discovered she was in love with a <em>Muggle</em>, I blamed <em>him</em> for taking her happiness away from her when he died."</p><p>Draco's chin landed in his hand. "I blamed him for loving my mother and causing her so much happiness only to rip it away by dying of cancer. It made me dislike Muggles because he died of cancer and he didn't want to be saved by magic. He didn't want my mother to help, and for doing so, latched her in a life of misery."</p><p>"You can't blame an entire population of people for one person's actions," Hermione said sadly, looking into his eyes to search beneath the surface. "You can't blame every Muggle and every Muggle-Born Wizard for your mother's misery, Draco."</p><p>He shifted in his seat, his sock-clad foot brushing against Hermione's ankle.</p><p>"If I don't blame him, then who else can I blame?" He asked, voice so quiet it almost got lost beneath the rain. "If I don't blame Muggles, if I don't blame <em>him</em> for acting so Muggle and not taking my mothers help to heal him, <em>who</em> can I blame?"</p><p>Hermione could not answer, so Draco continued on.</p><p>"I blamed myself for a while. If I had never been born, maybe my Mother could have escaped the clutches of the Malfoy Manor and ran away to sea like she had always wanted to. Having a child binds a Witch to her Wizard, so she was trapped, lodged with him to cry and weep every night next to his cold undead body."</p><p>"She loved you, Draco, I'm sure of it." Hermione said, trying to lift his spirits, but he only gave a bitter laugh in response.</p><p>"I blamed myself, until my father corrupted my mind day after day with this ideology of Muggles and I thought, they <em>are</em> bad, they are disgusting, they are <em>lesser</em>. I put pieces together and thought, a<em>h, my mother loved a Muggle, so everything must be his fault, right</em>?" Draco said, and Hermione caught a crack beneath his eye for a split second. "I'm not doubting her love for me, she was all I had, I was all she had. Yet, I'd take never being born if it meant Joseph would have accepted her help and let himself live a happy life with her, in this dusty fucking house."</p><p>"Cancer is hard to cure Draco, even for a Witch," Hermione reassured him. "Are the photos still beneath her bed, I'd—Well I'd love to see."</p><p>Draco flinched, but slowly nodded, and with a flick of his wand, Hermione could hear bangs and crashes, until a dusty green box flew through the doorway and landed on the table with a thud.</p><p>Hermione stared at him again before reaching to open the box. "You can't blame Muggles for not curing Joseph. You can't blame Muggles for him dying and leaving your mother here. You can't. If he could have lived a happy life here in Southwark with her, I'm sure he would have."</p><p>Draco gave a stiff nod at her words like if he spoke he would crack. He didn't have to speak for Hermione to know her words had stuck.</p><p>When Hermione did open the box, revealing more than a hundred dusty photographs, she felt her mouth curving into a smile.</p><p>Many of the photographs were Muggle photographs without loops, but there were a few at the bottom of the box that played continuous loops over and over.</p><p>Hermione delved her finger inside of the box and picked out a random black and white photograph. She moved it into the line of light streaming from her window and felt her lips twitching as she ran a finger over the people in the image.</p><p>Joseph could not be further from Lucius Malfoy if he tried.</p><p>He had short hair, shaved underneath but long on the top, falling over his forehead in wispy dark curls. His eyes seemed to be black, sparkling against the flash of the camera. On his lap sat a guitar, beside him Narcissa was peering over at him with a beaming smile on her young face.</p><p>"When did you find these?" Hermione asked, placing the photograph back inside of the book to grasp another one instead. "What was her reaction when you found them?"</p><p>Draco stiffened in his seat like he didn't want to recall the memories of the situation Hermione was asking to hear. She peered at him for a moment, trying to soften the look of ablaze on his face by tightening the murk of their ankles beneath the table.</p><p>"Just before third year at Hogwarts. Mother and Father had a blazing row about the classes I was taking. Father desperately was trying to convince my mother of allowing me to drop out of Muggle Studies, but she refused."</p><p>Hermione listened while taking in the contents of the photograph. It was Narcissa, her hair tied into a messy bun, sitting sandwiched between Joseph and Regulus. Narcissa was young, and Regulus was even younger, almost childlike. They all had smiles on their faces, peering at the camera and holding up glasses as if they were throwing cheers at something.</p><p>If they were all in the photograph, who had taken it? Hermione's questions were quickly answered when she took out another photograph.</p><p>This time it was Joseph sitting in the very same chair she was sitting in, eating what seemed to be a pork-pie. Behind him, cleaning dishes, was Kreacher. His eyes were peering at the camera, gleaming with what seemed like some sort of happiness.</p><p>"She refused and refused! Telling my father it was necessary to know the contents in which the other half of the world lives. It got to the point he had put his wand to her neck, so she snatched me up and brought me here for the weekend to cool the blows." Draco said, his own fingers slowly moving within the box and pulling out photographs.</p><p>Hermione was silent, letting her finger run over the image of Kreacher. She felt trepidation run through her bones. How would he be feeling, throughout all of this? Thrown from Grimmauld Place to here like a yo-yo, tormented by evil masters and treated nicely here. How would he be feeling, knowing now he had not <em>one</em> person left, and having to tend to Luna Lovegood. Hermione still needed to figure out how <em>that</em> had come to be.</p><p>"She asked me to fetch her coat from her room, the green one you must have seen hanging from the rack," Hermione nodded. "I was nosey and saw the box sticking out from beneath the bed, so I looked inside."</p><p>Hermione swapped the photograph for another, smiling at the sight of Regulus, who was older in this photograph, leaning against the window smoking. For a short moment, Hermione felt her stomach-lurching, because he almost mirrored Draco perfectly.</p><p>"She refused to speak of it for six hours, she yelled at me and locked me in my room and told me I was nosey and spoilt. But eventually she came around, she handed me my sketchbook and told me to draw as she told me about her first love." Draco continued, sighing.</p><p>"She made me promise to not tell <em>anyone</em> about it. Not one person. Not one." For a moment, he looked guilt-stricken and dropped the photograph he was holding as sadness ripped through his face. "But now I have told you. I—I guess she wouldn't mind, she would trust you."</p><p>"I'm sorry, Draco, I really am." Hermione sighed, looking up at him.</p><p>The rain had suddenly died away and the cold glare on his skin was replaced by yellow sun-rays.</p><p>"She, she seemed wonderful. She deserves to be here, living happily with you." Hermione reached out and took his hand. "I'm sorry that she isn't, and when you're ready to tell what Blaise said, you can."</p><p>For a moment he tensed up and stilled, but when she rubbed the ridge of his knuckles with her thumb, he relaxed and nodded.</p><p>Draco hadn't looked this vulnerable in a while. He almost looked pure, void of any evil or murk. He looked like Draco, with watery blue eyes, ashy white hair, soft skin and warm lips. He didn't look like the person who bullied her or the person who stood on the astronomy tower ready to cast the Killing Curse.</p><p>He looked peaceful. Happy. Content.</p><p>Hermione wondered how long this would last before something tore his hilarity in half.</p><p>Before sadness could spring on him, she tucked up the photographs and placed them neatly inside the box, placing them on the countertop with a swift flick of her wand. It woke the bird, who was still sleeping peacefully on the sofa (Hermione had never met such a lazy owl) and caused her to hoot and fly into the hallway.</p><p>"We need fresh air." She concluded, pushing her chair away, she picked up her plate and Draco's with her hands and dumped them in the sink before turning towards him. "Where do you want to go?"</p><p>Draco hummed, looking over at her with a playful sneer.</p><p>"Why don't you show me one of those strange Muggle food buildings?" He said, tapping his chin in thought.</p><p>"It's called a supermarket." She deadpanned. "Is there any point, my wand can just—"</p><p>"There is no point, Granger." He said her surname with a chuckle of pointed annoyance. "That <em>is</em> the point."</p><p>She nodded, seemly understanding what he meant and headed towards her bag, pulling out her hat and gloves.</p><p>"Cmon then, Malfoy."</p><p>—</p><p>When Draco had appeared out onto the pavement, where Hermione was leaning against the gate of the house with an impatient expression on her face, Hermione's knees almost gave way.</p><p>He was wearing the leather jacket he had brought in Camden, paired with black jeans Hermione had never seen him wear before and his silver wristwatch. He was holding a cigarette in his fingers and lit it seconds after he appeared out in the street.</p><p>"Like what you see, Granger?" He taunted, winking at her as he stomped down the steps and onto the pavement.</p><p>"The jacket looks—well it looks—you suit it." Hermione gulped, trying to tear her gaze away as his white hair evaporated into a black colour.</p><p>Hermione had almost forgotten about his disguising charm until she watched his white hair turn the colour of a silky raven. Against the spring sun-rays that only lasted for another hour until the rain came back, it glimmered with a hint of inky-ness which only drew more attention to his blue eyes.</p><p>Hermione briefly thought about how others would react if they ever saw Draco dressed like <em>this</em>. It was funny really, Draco Malfoy, the rudist wizard who always adorned Hogwarts robes or a smart black suit, standing in a leather jacket, black hair with a cigarette at his lips.</p><p>"Let's go then!" Draco held out his arm impatiently for Hermione to take, assuming she'd apparate them to wherever they needed to go.</p><p>"We can walk," Hermione scoffed, starting of down the street and shouting over her shoulder in a hushed tone, "Like Muggles!"</p><p>—</p><p>Draco was gripping the trolly handle with so much force Hermione thought it might snap.</p><p>He was grunting with annoyance as the trolly swung and crashed into multiple items on the shelf, muttering <em>'is it so hard to make a contraption that actually goes where you want it to?'</em> when he knocked a bag of crisps onto the floor, which he kicked beneath the shelf with the front of his boot.</p><p>"This place is stupid." Draco muttered, glancing over at Hermione beneath wisps of black hair.</p><p>"And <em>why</em> is it stupid, may I ask?" Hermione shot back, absentmindedly picking up a packet of mini-muffins and sliding them into the trolly next to a packet of sour apple candy Draco had picked out.</p><p>While it felt a little unnecessary to be wasting money on food when Hermione could simply conjure it for free with her Locket-Wand, it felt nice to be back in an environment she hadn't been in for so long. And besides, she didn't want to overuse the charms on the wand <em>too</em> much, seeing as they were there to protect her in times of need and not there for everyday use.</p><p>"Because it is! It's too bright and smells like—" He paused and took a deep sniff, turning up his nose. "—Like some sort of strange cleaning product, and why would they put eggs in the same shelf as bread? It makes no sense!"</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes and continued walking, beckoning Draco into the dairy aisle.</p><p>Reminding herself Draco's family had always been highly reliant on House-Elves bringing them different assortments of meals made from food brought at markets, she bit her tongue and reminded herself that he wasn't used to the world she grew up in.</p><p>"Open your mind, Draco, it's actually fun if you want it to be," Hermione said, her eyes lingering on his face, which was stark white beneath the harsh lighting, for a moment too long. "I remember my mum used to bring me here, she'd make it a whole day's outing when my dad was working."</p><p>Sadness rippled through Hermione's words at the memory of her parents. It was times like this she forgot they had absolutely no recollection of who Hermione was. She had folded up the memory of the day she sent them away and placed it in a box at the back of her mind.</p><p>Draco seemed to pick up on her sadness and looked at her through a taunt frown.</p><p>"You don't speak about your parents much, do you?" He said, fingers gingerly reaching towards a strawberry yoghurt. He dropped his voice so only she could hear. "When I come to think of it, why did you not just go back home when you left Hogwarts, why did you go to the wonky hotel?"</p><p>The time she, <em>they</em>, spent at the wonky hotel felt like years ago, the thought of it made Hermione's insides twitch.</p><p>"It's a long story," Hermione said with a small smile as Draco sneered at the yoghurt before putting it back on the shelf. "I don't think it's a supermarket appropriate story, either."</p><p>Hermione brushed away the topic with a wave of her hand. Truthfully, she wasn't sure if she <em>wanted</em> to tell Draco about the fact she had erased her parent's memories and sent them halfway across the world without her. While she didn't feel guilty, she felt slightly feverish at the fact she continued to keep things hidden from him.</p><p>He didn't need to know <em>everything</em>. Because although she had come to some sort of conclusion in her mind about him, he was still Draco Malfoy and nothing would change that.</p><p>"Right..." He mused, dragging out the letters as if unsure what to reply.</p><p>It fell silent. Hermione continued walking and grasped a bottle of milk from the shelf and placed it in the trolly. Draco followed silently, only once crashing into the back of her ankles when he had been too busy sneering at a neighbouring Muggle-shopper to watch where he was going.</p><p>They rounded a corner and Hermione led them down the aisle that contained sweet treats such as chocolates and cakes. She watched as Draco pushed the trolly, his eyes gleaming with uncertainty and some sort of weakness; like he was out of his element entirely.</p><p>He <em>was</em> out of his element. Tesco's was hardly the Malfoy Manor and a shopping trolly was hardly Dobby the elf bringing him a roast dinner.</p><p>When Hermione stopped at the edge of a display of boxed cakes, Draco stepped away from the trolley and leant down ever so slightly, one hand gripping the shelf beside his head, and dropped his voice into a near-whisper.</p><p>"We had a little tiff at first, me and Blaise." He spoke, his voice on the edge of nervousness. "Don't know <em>why</em>, he had asked to speak with <em>me</em>, but when I arrived he was rather overwhelmed and pulled out his wand."</p><p>Hermione glanced up at him, her eyes narrowing on his arm beside his head. The height of his arm against the shelf caused his leather jacket to rise up his arm, and it exposed the end of his Dark-Mark. It made Hermione's stomach gleam with a bitter and short-lived reminder of who he was.</p><p>"I took a wand in my face as some sort of, <em>oh shit, I've been pulled into some of trap here</em>, and took out my own wand, he got me in the side of the face with a hex, and we had fought until Luna stepped between us and told us we were insane," Draco said, laughing ever so slightly. "But when it came down to it, I looked and him and he looked at me, and we just started laughing like old friends. And then he proved with the truth potion he was innocent, and everything just seemed, a little, well, better."</p><p>Hermione pursed her lips and pretended to be picking out a cake when a Muggle walked by.</p><p>Her mind was rambling with thoughts. While she felt more than happy Blaise was not a stone-cold murderer, her mind couldn't help but stumble into the image of Theo and Pansy surrounded by other Death-Eaters, searching for Draco. It also lingered on Luna, and how and why she had gotten herself into this situation with Blaise in the first place.</p><p>"Elaborate on what he said afterwards," Hermione said, glancing up at him. "Where is he staying, with Luna? Who does he think—"</p><p>Draco huffed and interrupted her.</p><p>"I'm getting there, if you'd just listen, you twit!" He spat, somewhat jokingly. "He couldn't tell me where he's staying, he just said he was with some <em>friends</em> from Hogwarts...I assumed Theo and Pansy, until I remembered they decided to stay loyal to the Dark Lord and Blaise hadn't."</p><p>"Does he know much about Pansy and Theo?" Hermione asked carefully as she placed two cakes into the trolley to eat later. "I remember Luna saying he was rather shocked at the Newspaper article..."</p><p>"That's the thing, he knows <em>nothing</em>, just as much as me, but—" He paused, took another glance around and continued speaking. "—Luna started acting all weird when I brought them up, she changed the subject and started talking about Nargales, whatever that is."</p><p>Hermione tilted her head. Something was definitely off with Luna.</p><p>First of all, she and her father had gotten involved with not only Draco Malfoy, but Blaise Zabini. Luna was also in the company of the Black family Elf, which was an unlikely pairing even in itself, and Kreacher had mentioned something about guests at Grimmauld Place. Guests that were <em>not</em> Harry and Ron, like Luna had said. And although Molack found Harry and Ron without a direct address, Luna was still not making much sense.</p><p>Hermione quickly uttered her thoughts to Draco, who nodded and continued to push the trolley into the next aisle.</p><p>"Maybe we should speak to her." Draco said, carefully.</p><p>"Did you not ask her at <em>all</em> about why she lied?" Hermione raised a brow. "I mean, you had the perfect opportunity to!"</p><p>Draco scoffed and looked at her with a frown, annoyance gleaming in his features.</p><p>"No, I didn't, I had more pressing matters on my mind, thank you very much." He huffed, taking out one of the cakes Hermione had put into the trolley and onto a random shelf, muttering how he<em> 'doesn't like fruitcake'.</em></p><p>Hermione grabbed the cake and put it back inside the trolley with a thud.</p><p>"More pressing matters on your mind? Draco, this is Harry and Ron we are talking about!" She whisper-yelled.</p><p>"There is the <em>thing</em>, Hermione, I don't care about Harry or Ron!" He whisper-yelled back. "And especially not when i'm staring into the face of my best friend who I haven't seen in a year!"</p><p>"You could've at least asked for <em>my</em> sake! you blithering idiot!" She snapped, walking away from him quickly.</p><p>He followed suit, skipping to catch up with her and gripped her shoulder, swinging her around to lean over her like a turret.</p><p>"Are you really going to act like a bitch over this? It doesn't matter, Granger!" He huffed. "I told you, i don't care about Harry and Ron, even if you do! We can just go and ask her to—"</p><p>"That's the <em>thing</em>!" Hermione stomped, mimicking his words. "You didn't ask because you're <em>selfish</em>! Do you know how much I've been worrying about them? Do you know how much hope I garnered from Luna saying they were at Grimmauld place? She lied to me and I wanted to know why!"</p><p>She turned on her heels and continued walking again, feeling bitter rage sinking into the seams of her skin. She hated how selfish he was even after all this time. She had hoped he would've had one ounce of brain matter to question Luna and why she lied about her best-friends occupation and Grimmauld Place.</p><p>"You never asked me to ask!" Draco groaned, struggling to keep up with her and control the trolley at the same time. "What was I meant to do, take it upon my own conscience to ask about two people I couldn't give two fucks about?"</p><p>Hermione stopped in her tracks and spun on her heels to glare at him, shooting daggers at her.</p><p>"If you had more than two brain cells in your puny little head than you would've asked because <em>I</em> care about them! Because if Luna is acting like the fire's lit, but the cauldron's empty—then what else is she hiding?" Hermione huffed, shaking her head at him.</p><p>"I'm not going to lie to you, I don't know what that means—"</p><p>"It doesn't matter!" Hermione yelled, catching the attention of an older gentleman who quickly stumbled into the next aisle. "Just—just, do better Draco."</p><p>His mouth opened then fell shut. "I'm doing my best."</p><p>Something flashed across his features, something like hurt or disappointment or anger. Maybe all of these feelings mixed together as one.</p><p>Hermione breathed through her nose and followed him when he continued walking, the trolley hitting a pile of cereal boxes and nearly knocking them down.</p><p>"I know, I'm sorry it's just—" Hermione looked at Draco and tried to read what he was thinking, but he had turned his features to stone. "—I'm just so confused...<em>everything</em> is confusing me, I don't know where Harry and Ron <em>are</em>, I don't know how their hunt is going and what the status of the war is."</p><p>Hermione gulped and lowered her voice even further.</p><p>"What if someone has died, and I don't know about it? What if Ron was hurt or Harry or Ginny or Molly or Fred—I just—I got my hopes up when Luna said they were at Grimmauld Place because, well, that was always somewhere so <em>safe</em> for us growing up, so I thought that they were safe, I thought they where—"</p><p>"There is no need to get your wand in a twist, Hermione, " Draco said, seemingly annoyed. He set one hand on her shoulder as they walked side by side. "We can go and visit her tomorrow morning and get to the bottom of it! Just calm the fuck down."</p><p>Hermione shoved his arm away from her but relaxed at his words. Maybe she was overreacting or maybe Draco just had the ability to corrupt her mind and make her calm.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione woke the next morning, once more wrapped in a pair of warm arms.</p><p>The moment she opened her eyes, she could feel the lingering kisses on her neck from the night before, and knew that she'd have to spend several minutes charming them away before they headed to the Lovegood's home.</p><p>Hermione peeled herself from the clutches of Draco's arms, to which he groaned and tugged her back towards his chest with a gentle protest of '<em>no, you're so warm, stay here'</em> but she simply laughed and wiggled herself free.</p><p>She indeed spent ten minutes getting rid of every bruise Draco had left on her throat and found herself standing on the pavement next to Draco an hour later.</p><p>He was still slick from sleep, his eyes puffy and tired and his hair, which had just turned black, fell over his eyebrows that she knew were furrowed together.</p><p>The air was cold, not too cold but cold enough for her to pull her sleeves over her hands. And there was a strange drizzle of rain about the air, sinking into her eyelashes as a brittle reminder that it was not yet summer. Draco seemed appeased by the misty rain and grimaced as he ran a hand through his hair that was wetting.</p><p>"Ready?" Draco asked, holding out his forearm.</p><p>Hermione took a usual glance around to make sure the coast was clear, checked her wand was in her pocket like always and rested her hand on his wrist.</p><p>"Ready as I'll ever be."</p><p>She was tugged forwards, spinning and spinning until they landed in a crack within the ankle-length grass.</p><p>The wind was stronger here, blowing so harshly that Hermione could barely see out of the black curls tangling around her face. And the rain was stronger too, drawing against her skin and soaking her until she was covered in a mountain of cold goosebumps.</p><p>Draco huffed at the rain and grabbed her wrist, tugging her towards the Lovegood's house which stood shivering on the cold hill.</p><p>"Why do you always apparate us so far away!" Hermione groaned as the wet grass seeped through her shoes. "There's no anti-apparition wards on the house!"</p><p>"What, shall I just apprarate us into the kitchen next time, so we land on a pile of knives?" Draco retorted.</p><p>Hermione ignored him as they reached the base of the stone steps that led up to the door. Beside it was the Dirigible Plum bush, they seemed more vibrant now it was spring but the plum closest to her was rotting.</p><p>"Hermione," Draco said, turning towards her. One of his hands came up to rest against her shoulder.</p><p>She stared up at him, her heart pounding at the way he looked, his black hair wet against his forehead in the rain, dripping down to his plush lips, and his eyes sparkling the most vivid shade of blue.</p><p>"Don't lash out again, control your temper, because no matter what, Harry will always be safe as long as he is The chosen one." He said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "Stop fearing his safety when he didn't even ask if <em>you</em> were okay in that letter."</p><p>Hermione scoffed, wanting nothing more than for him to stop being so annoying so they could get inside and out of the rain that was falling over them like a wave.</p><p>"I won't, I just want to know why Luna was lying!" Hermione said, shaking her head.</p><p>Draco smirked, dropped down and pressed a quick kiss on Hermione's lips. He tapped her shoulder and began to drag her up the stairs.</p><p>"Good."</p><p>The door swung open with force, hitting the black stone wall so hard it vibrated the floor beneath Hermione's feet.</p><p>"Draco, Miss Granger?" Xenophilius spoke, raising an eyebrow. "You are...a few days early."</p><p>Xenophilius stared at them with a pointed expression on his features, half ridden with anger and half with some sort of <em>expectation</em>. His hair was matted and tangled, curling at the base of his neck in tuffs, and his skin was ridden with mud and water. Hermione couldn't decipher whether it was rain or tears or a mix of both.</p><p>"We were wondering if we could speak with Luna?" Hermione said, making a point to shiver so he'd hurry up and let them inside. "If she is here, of course."</p><p>Xenophilius' eyes seemed to widen then closed, then he nodded, moving and signalling them to come in.</p><p>On entering, Hermione couldn't help but shoot a confused glance at Draco at the state of the kitchen. On the table lay over a hundred copies of the Daily Prophet, some ripped into little pieces and some in perfect condition. One chair was overturned on its back, the leg was torn in two like it had been thrown down in anger, and there were stains of mud and split tea on the table and floors.</p><p>Draco cleared his throat and held Hermione back by her wrist to stop her from sitting down.</p><p>"Xeno, is Luna here?" Draco asked, sternly. "Did something happen, it looks like a bomb has exploded!"</p><p>Xenophilius gave out a forced laugh and shook his head, scrambling over to the kitchen sink to glare out of the window.</p><p>"No, No, nothing nothing!" He said, voice quick. "Luna should...she should be along."</p><p>"Right well, if she's going to be a while we can just come back tomorrow or see her whe—"</p><p>"We can <em>wait</em>," Hermione said sternly, glaring up at Draco whose expression was masked. "I want to speak with her."</p><p>"I said, she should be <em>along</em>!" Xenophilius snapped, causing Hermione to jump in her skin. "Sit, sit! I can make tea?"</p><p>Draco stepped in front of Hermione even further, holding her back with his arm so forcefully she felt her back hitting the dor they just entered through.</p><p>"We don't want <em>tea</em>." Draco's voice was flat. "We want to speak to Luna, Xeno, we want to as—"</p><p>"Have you seen her?" Xenophilius said, rushing from the window to grip the collar of Draco's shirt.</p><p>Hermione fell into shock. Not only was this rather out of character for Xenophilius, who seemed to be a rather placid man, it was out of character for the <em>context</em>. Just two seconds ago, he was saying <em>she'll be along. </em>Why was he asking if they knew where she was?</p><p>"Are you mental?" Draco gasped, shoving the older man away from him with such force he stumbled and fell to the ground. "Are you fucking <em>mental</em>?"</p><p>"They took her!" Xenophilius cried, eyes wide and horror-stricken.</p><p>Hermione's throat filled with bile.</p><p>She didn't have time to process what was going on, because time seemed to be moving at double speed, one moment Xenophilius was on the ground and the next he was on his feet clutching his wand and pointing it towards them. Though, Hermione was faster, and pulled out her own and pointed it back at him.</p><p>What the fuck was going on?</p><p>Draco seemed to be in the same state, because he stood for a moment bewildered, before responding.</p><p>"They took her? Who took her?"</p><p>Xenophilius waved his wand madly. If Hermione didn't know better, she'd think he was drunk or insane.</p><p>"Have you seen her? <em>Have</em> you? Where is she!" Xenophilius cried, jabbing his wand dangerously close to Hermione's face.</p><p>"Calm-"</p><p>"You're Potter's friend..." Xenophilius said, his voice suddenly dropping an octave like he had discovered something spellbinding. "They would—They would rather have you than my sweet sweet Luna, wouldn't they?"</p><p>Draco was hovering over Hermione's body like a shield, his shoulders so rigid he felt like stone. But Hermione could see his fingers trembling ever so slightly like he was afraid of what was going on.</p><p>"<em>Who</em> would rather have her?" Draco snapped his fingers in front of Xenophilius' face. "Snap out of it, Xeno! Let us help you, who took her?"</p><p>Xenophilius paused, he looked over Draco's shoulders and into Hermione's eyes. The blue around his iris' was shaking, trembling with fear and sadness. Hermione knew it was laced with desperation, if Luna was in trouble, he was probably racid.</p><p>"I'm sorry—i'm sorry but it's my baby we are talking about! My Dear Luna, why—why would they want my dear Luna if I could offer them the potter's best-friend and Draco Malfoy at the same time? They'd—they would—they'd be sure to give me my Luna back, wouldn't they?"</p><p>"<em>Who</em>!" Draco Bellowed.</p><p>"The snatchers." And then he paused, and with one swipe of his wand, he caught Hermione off-guard, and the wand she was holding was whipped out of her hands and into his own. "I assume they are going to take him to...<em>Voldemort</em>."</p><p>Hermione gasped and remembered Luna's words from months ago.</p><p>
  <em>'His name has been jinxed into a taboo, if it is spoken, the caster is alerted and protective enchantments around the speaker are weakened! They can find you wherever you are...'</em>
</p><p>"Draco—"</p><p>It was too late to apparate away. Before Hermione could even <em>register</em> the idea, the windows of the house were being blown apart, and dark cloaked people were being thrown into it in midst of inky smoke.</p><p>The force of the windows smashing had thrown Hermione to the floor, and her nose hit the wooden planks with a deafening crack, leaking crimson onto the oak.</p><p>Draco had his wand out, and had stepped in-front of Hermione's body once more, but before he could comprehend what was going on, his wand was knocked out of his hands and thrown into those of a tall, pale man who was concealed by a musky brown cloak.</p><p>"E' looks familia'!" One of the men shouted, and with a flick of his wand had Draco wrapped in ropes pulling him away from Hermione's. "Snatch em'!"</p><p>"That—That's Potter's Mudblood! From the papers!" Another gasped. Hermione tried to stand, but she was dizzy from the blow of her head against the floor. Her body had gone into a state of shock. "Why doesn't she look different! New hairdo, Miss pretty?"</p><p>All she could think was; <em>where is my wand? Please protect me, please protect me, please do something.</em></p><p>But nothing happened. She watched helplessly as Draco fought against the snatcher's grip, but Draco was too weak, too restrained. Draco was looking over his shoulder at Hermione with a pained, desperate gaze.</p><p>"Rose!" He yelled, eyes pleading in a way that spoke something like <em>Don't you dare get hurt.</em> "She isn't the Mudblood! Her name is Rose! Let her go, you cunt!"</p><p>But they didn't listen, and instead they laughed.</p><p>The man laughed harder as Hermione fought against him to try and reach Draco.</p><p>"Say goodbye to your friend, pretty, I'm sure the Dark Lord will be more than grateful when we hand him Potter's witch." The snatcher spoke into her ear, and before she could do anything, before she could scream or plead her wand for more help, she was spinning.</p><p>She was spinning and spinning and spinning until she landed on a cold, stone floor with a thud.</p><p>–</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">I have ordered some amazing commissions for this book! Get ready for black hair Draco guys...</span>
  </b>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Twenty-Seven.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Consciousness became a virtue for Hermione over the next four days. She fell in and out states of blankness, deep sleep and hysteria and states of full awareness that were weirdly short-lived.</p><p>Maybe it was a result of shock, a result of being pulled away from the clutches of her newfound safety in Southwark, or maybe there was some sort of sleeping curse placed inside of the dungeon she was being locked in, to torture her.</p><p>From when she <em>could</em> stay awake, all she could make out were dark arches of stone, standing on top of black cold wood. There was little light, just one tiny candle in the corner of the room that burned for two days straight, but then on the third day died away and sizzled out into a defeating twilight.</p><p>Hermione woke to a frail scream. It echoed throughout the dungeon, piercing her ears. It wasn’t the first scream, wail or thud of pain she had heard since she was dragged here. The screams surrounded her, parroting around her from what she assumed was surrounding dungeons.</p><p>It physically pained her that she could do <em>nothing</em> to help.</p><p>Her tired half-closed eyes stared into nothing but blackness, silent, terrifying blackness. She could faintly hear the click of high heels pacing somewhere around her which made everything slightly more haunting.</p><p>With a deep breath, she pulled her knees into her chest and cried.</p><p>She had felt <em>so</em> strong since the Locket wand chose her. It made her empowered and competent. Now—she just felt weak, withering on a cold floor and wishing she was <em>anywhere</em> but here.</p><p>She cried because truthfully, she was scared. She didn’t know where she was, and she didn’t know why she was being kept here. All she knew was the snatchers had recognised her, despite Draco’s attempts to disguise her and plucked her up so quickly she didn’t have any time to try and save herself.</p><p>She felt stupid. She felt stupid and scared and <em>alone.</em></p><p>And Hermione was so scared that she almost didn’t move for four days straight. Not even when she was met with, what she quickly recognised to be Peter Pettigrew, bringing her lacklustre, mouldy plates of food.</p><p>Hermione didn’t understand why he kept her fed if they wanted to kill her. It quickly came clear when Pettigrew spat at her <em>‘Eat, Mudblood, the Dark Lord will want to question you when he gets back from his trip, and he will want you to be alive.’</em></p><p>And then she cried because it hit her. <em>Again</em>. It crashed over her and made her insides split—she was still, and would always be Hermione Granger. She would always be Harry Potter’s best friend. <em>Potter’s Mudblood</em>, as Rita Skeeter liked to call her.</p><p>And while Voldemort was still alive and kicking, anyone would be desperate to get their hands on her.</p><p>At that moment, she wished she was Rose Waterlily.</p><p>When her tears began to dry, she took a deep breath but started crying again when Draco’s face flashed across her mind.</p><p>What if they realised he <em>was</em> Draco Malfoy? His face was recognisable, despite his poor attempt to conceal it with black hair. Anyone would’ve been able to tell, from his sharp nose and blue eyes, and the mark burned into the skin on his forearm.</p><p>Hermione realised then and there—she would do <em>anything</em> to protect him.</p><p>Because the thought of him being hurt, tortured or <em>worse </em>made her run to the corner of the dungeon to throw up.</p><p>And it made her dizzy. It made her so dizzy. Because although she knew there was something inside of her that <em>liked </em>Draco Malfoy, she hadn’t realised it was so palpable.</p><p>She wished he would come and save her. Yet, the thought seemed so unlikely.</p><p>Because did he even care for her in the same way she cared for him?</p><p>She shook her head, staring down at her pile of vomit on the icy black floor and stumbled back over to the nook she was hiding in.</p><p>It was cold. Any remainders of the spring sun were gone and she was sitting in what felt like an oversized freezer that was coating every inch of her body in shivering goosebumps.</p><p>All she wanted was for somebody to come and save her.</p><p>All she wanted was for Draco to come and save her.</p><p>The thought drilled into her head. Repeating on a loop, <em>please save me. Please save me. Please fucking save me. Please.</em></p><p>Though, it made her chuckle in some sad sort of way. Before now, she would’ve always looked for Harry or Ron to keep her safe in times of trouble; like the time they rushed into the bathroom to stop her head getting split in two by a troll, or when she was stunned frozen in second year, or even simple little things like when she had fallen asleep on the armchair in the Gryffindor common room, her curls falling into the fireplace causing Ron to cast many spells to extinguish the flames on her head.</p><p>But all longing to be saved by Harry or Ron seemed to be astray. It was just Draco in her mind, sitting there like a gentle reminder of what a terrible person she had become. Who would want a vivacious little bully to come and save them? <em>She did.</em></p><p>Hermione felt her eyes closing again and happily, welcomed looming sleep, but she was jolted awake when the iron gate of the dungeon creaked open, letting in a stream of yellow light.</p><p>She could see the edge of Pettigrew’s face in the dim light, engorging his hairy skin in spikes of saffron. He was holding something, and when Hermione squinted, she realised he was holding <em>someone.</em></p><p>Hermione instinctively shied away, scuttling along the floor and not even flinching at the splinters sinking into her hands.</p><p>The new body was ghosted in a pale shadow, all Hermione could make out long light dreadlocks, swishing as Pettigrew pushed the body forward so harshly they landed on the floor face first with a deafening crack.</p><p>Pettigrew scuffled away, but not before placing another half-burnt candle on the floor by the gate.</p><p>“Oh what an awful little man!” The person said, rising to their feet and wiping their hands on their legs. “Infested with Nargles, that one.”</p><p>Hermione’s heart lurched when the candle pooled against the incomers face, making them stand out like snow in a battlefield.</p><p>It was Luna, shivering with a busted lip, blood running down her umber skin and pooling on her beige T-shirt that was torn in several places.</p><p>“Luna?” Hermione whispered, her voice rather dry.</p><p>Luna jumped as if she was shocked at the voice, and held her hand against her sternum as she scuttled towards Hermione and crouched to reach her level.</p><p>“Hermione? What the—Mione—it’s really you?” She said, her voice dreamlike with hints of jitter. “Dear Merlin, what are you doing here?—I mean, what happened, are you hurt?”</p><p>There was a moment of silence before Luna spoke once more. “I barely recognised you... your face is so—you look <em>hurt</em>.”</p><p>Hermione hadn’t thought about the lasting impact of the injuries she sustained at the Lovegood home. She knew her face had smacked the floor when she tried to reach out for Draco, but as she reached her hand up to where her cheek was throbbing, she gasped. It felt swollen under her skin, and it hurt to touch. She knew her lip wasn't in any better condition, either.</p><p>“I’ve been here for four days!” Hermione said, reaching out to grasp one of Luna’s hands. “Are you hurt? You’re bleeding, what did they do to you?”</p><p>“Four days…” Luna shook her head. “I wish I’d have known sooner—they’ve been keeping me in a dungeon with Ollivander, you know, the wandmaker—anyway—“</p><p>“Is Draco here?” Hermione asked, feeling slightly selfish as the words left her mouth. She hated that he was her priority in a moment like this.</p><p>“No, Hermione, from what I know, he isn’t here,” Luna said sadly, she shuffled to sit beside Hermione on the cold floor, her head resting back against the wall.</p><p>Hermione felt herself falling slick with glee and fear at once. It was a good sign he wasn’t here because that could mean he had wriggled free from the Snatcher’s clutches. But also a bad sign, because if he wasn’t here, where the hell was he?</p><p>It was silent for about three minutes, nothing but the sound of Luna’s chattering teeth and the sound of her fingernails scratching the base of her knee filling the vicinity around them.</p><p>“Don’t—don’t let them hurt you, Hermione,” Luna said, her head falling to rest on Hermione's shoulder. “Just please don’t let them hurt you, I don’t know what I would do.”</p><p>Hermione’s heart felt as if it was being twisted in several different directions. Every ill-feeling that had accumulated against Luna over the past few weeks quickly dissolved the moment Luna’s face fell against the flank of her shoulder.</p><p>She needed a friend right now more than she needed an enemy. She needed comfort and warmth and familiarity—someone to give her hope.</p><p>And while she wanted to speak, while she wanted to sit for hours and ask why and how Luna was here, <em>where</em> they were, what had happened while she was in and out of consciousness—she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. It felt too deafening, too real.</p><p>It was snaking around Hermione’s like a curse, all of the possibles, and all of the reasons. It was trapping her, thumping against her skull.</p><p>“Hermione?” Luna said, reaching for Hermione’s hand and intertwining her fingers with her own. “Just take deep breaths, it’ll be okay, just take deep breaths.”</p><p>Hermione hadn’t realised she wasn’t breathing until Luna pointed it out, and she had to count from one to ten in her mind as she breathed to steady it.</p><p>“You tell me—you tell me not to get hurt,” Hermione said, once she had seized her lungs. “But what about you, Luna? This is awful. This is so fucking awful! What—I don’t even get what’s happening right now—“</p><p>Before Hermione could panic again, Luna propped herself up and pressed a kiss against Hermione’s cheek.</p><p>“Remember what I told you, months ago before I left Hogwarts?” Luna asked, a smirk dancing on her beaten lips. “I’m Luna Lovegood, danger is always astray from me.”</p><p>Hermione nodded as the candle burnt into darkness one more.</p><p>Her eyes fell shut, and she found herself thinking about the night prior to now.</p><p>—</p><p>
  <em>Draco’s hand came up to cup the underside of her thigh, his fingers sliding around her exposed skin and dancing on the edge of her underwear.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The moment Draco and Hermione had stepped into the Safe-House, he had pushed her against the wall and throttled her throat, bending his fingers around the curve of her neck dangerously hard, while he whispered, “You’re so fucking insufferable, why do you drive me fucking crazy?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He had thrown her onto the sofa and pulled off her trousers before she even had time to process it, and when she did, they were already laying on a heap by the fireplace. He had beckoned her onto his lap, where she could already feel his bulge pressing dangerously against her centre, causing her to let out a small, strangled moan.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His hands moved to squeeze the skin on her ass, while doing so, coercing her to grind against him. He grunted into her ear, pulling her flank against his dick to the point he began to actually whimper.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Draco’s lips fell against her own, one of his hands cupping the back of her head and pushing her closer to him.</em>
</p><p><em>“You really—really fucking pissed me off at the Muggle food place…” He moaned into her mouth, sinking his nails into her ass. “You think you’re so fucking smart, acting like that—so fucking rude—you don’t ever </em>want<em> to be a good girl, do you?”</em></p><p>
  <em>Hermione tugged on his bottom lip and whispered. “Not when it comes to you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Fuck, Granger.” He said, moving his mouth to nip at her ear. “You’re such a brat, do you know that?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione smirked at the name change. Before, it would’ve always been Rose at times like this, and although it wasn’t quite Hermione, it was enough to excite her to the point she was tugging at his shirt and throwing it over his head.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She paused for a moment, her eyes dancing over three large scars on his chest and stomach. She never knew they existed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“From when Potter tried to be smart,” He said, breathlessly. “That sectumsempra curse was quite the cunt.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She shot him a small smile, still moving her hips against him ever so slightly as she ran her hands over his bare chest, carefully feeling every ridge and dent on his torso from where the spell had hit him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Makes you look—“ She stilled, before smirking and leaning down to kiss him again. “—badass.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He hummed, tugging her hair so her head fell backwards where he eyed her with a smirk on his features.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Badass?” He quirked. “That’s what you like, is it Granger? You don’t like nerdy little ginger boys who can’t cast a successful jinx?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She smirked at him, her fingers still stroking his skin until they reached the buckle of his belt.</em>
</p><p><em>“No, I Don't like nerdy little ginger boys,” Hermione said, “I like vivacious little blonde </em>cunts, <em>actually.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Her fingers danced at the buckle of his belt and tried to undo it, but Draco’s hands clapped around her wrists and held them still, hissing as he shook his head.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Granger,” His voice was dark. He stared at Hermione through his icy, lustful eyes, as he slowly removed his hand from her wrist and moved it towards her underwear, where it rested on top of her clothed clit, making her whimper ever so slightly. “I want you to ride my fucking fingers, I want you to prove you can be a good girl before you suck my cock like I know you’re so fucking desperate to do.”</em>
</p><p><em>Hermione’s eyes widened. While she was still new to sexual experiences, she was well aware of how much she enjoyed the way Draco treated her when they were like </em>this<em>. He treated her like she was imperfect and dirty and horrid, he treated her like he ran off toxicity and malintent. And while she was new at </em>this, <em>she knew words like that were enough to make her clench in trepidation.</em></p><p>
  <em>“Fuck—“ Hermione whimpered as she felt Draco’s hands tugging of her underwear, lingering on her public bone before he moved them down and slid inside of her. “Malfoy—shit.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Because she was straddling him, his fingers were perched upwards and slid into her at the perfect angle, hitting the spot inside of her she craved the most with one simple arch of his index finger, causing herself to tremble and nearly slip from his lap.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Merlin Granger, you’re fucking soaking,” He smirked, using his free hand to tug her against his chest so he could pepper kisses down her throat. “You’re so wet all for me, aren’t you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione whimpered, her hands going flank against his shoulders to steady herself as his fingers pulled out and circled around her entrance, collecting her juices.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I asked you a fucking question,” He yanked her hair so hard she yelped. “Answer my fucking question, are you a fucking whore, who is wet for me, or not?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione felt her eyes rolling back in ecstasy, Dear God did she love being a whore.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“For you.” She moaned as his fingers slipped inside of her again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Good.” He smirked, leaning back against the backrest of the sofa where he watched her with sparkling lust-ridden eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Didn’t I tell you to ride my fingers? Hmm?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione’s eyes widened, and for a moment she panicked. She didn’t know how to do this, and she felt herself growing red and hot from embarrassment. She didn’t want Draco to think she was a complete prude–if you weren't counting the very short and lacklustre experiences with Fred, Cormac and Padma.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He seemed to notice she was nervous and saddled his free hand around her hip where he gripped her waist, guiding her so she moved upwards and then pulled her back down on his fingers, repeating the process in antagonising movements that made Hermione whimper.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Just like that,” He whispered, letting her continue the pace by herself, leaning back to watch her. “Good fucking girl, go on, don’t hold back on my account.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione shot him a lustful gaze and staggered at the sight of him, leaning back with his head rolling ever so slightly to expose his adam's apple, but still keeping his eyes trained to her every movement.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His fingers were arching inside of her as she began to roll her hips against them in a way that made him hiss, and a way that made her moan out a breathy “fuck.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re fucking hot, did you know that?” He breathed, eyes pooling with the light from the fireplace. “You’re so hot because you’re Hermione fucking Granger—you’re someone I shouldn’t be indulging in, but you make me break all the rules..."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He scissored his fingers and chuckled when her legs shook. “How can I help myself when you fight me, when you act bitchy and selfish and when you yell at me?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione's hands began to tug at the back of his nape, wrapping small strands of white hair around her fingers as he began to thrust his fingers inside of her in time with the rolling of her hips, and used his other hand to grab her clothed boob beneath her t-shirt.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You—fuck Malfoy—you like when I yell at you? You like it when I'm a bitch?” She breathed, yelping when his fingers played with her nipple. “How sadistic are you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He chuckled darkly, and his eyes fell from her face to stare at her centre. He bit his lip and moaned in satisfaction at the sight of her slick on his fingers.</em>
</p><p><em>“Of course I don’t </em>like <em>it—but it sure does turn me on, because you get all pink and angry and—“ He paused to pull up her t-shirt to her stomach to he could gaze at her centre better. “—and you challenge me.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Hermione couldn’t respond. She was too breathless and she was too busy mewling at the feeling bubbling inside of her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Look at that, riding my fingers like a fucking whore.” Draco’s lips twerked as her movements against him became more frantic. “Such a tight little cunt too, so fucking tight.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Malfoy please touch me—fuck—please oh my god” Her hands were wrapped around his neck as she fucked against his fingers with so much desperation the sofa began to shake beneath them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That’s it, come on my fingers like the filthy Mudblood you are.” His hand came up to grasp her face so hard her mouth fell into a pout. He yanked her face roughly so her lips fell against her mouth. “Fucking come Granger, I know you’re desperate to come on my fingers."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione felt him fuck his fingers into her and his hand fell around her throat, gripping to the point she was gasping for air and when he tugged on her body lip and tasted iron, she clenched around his fingers and came.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Look at that, so good for me, aren’t you?” He sneered, watching Hermione continued to ride out her orgasm out by twitching against his thigh.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He brought his two fingers to her lips and shoved them inside, forcing her to taste herself.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Perfect little Mudblood.”</em>
</p><p>—</p><p>Around what Hermione assumed to be two hours later, the gate to the dungeon clicked open once more.</p><p>Pettigrew stumbled in holding a lamp, his face now containing multiple bruises and one of his eyes leaking crimson blood.</p><p>“Get up, Mudblood!” He spat. “We want to have a little chat with you…”</p><p>Hermione took a glance at Luna, who for a moment looked struck with rage in which Hermione thought she was going to stand to try and strike Pettigrew, but her face relaxed when Hermione shot her a small smile.</p><p>“I’ll be back in a minute,” Hermione tried to reassure her, but her voice wavered on the edge of uncertainty because deep down, Hermione was absolutely petrified of what was about to happen.</p><p>She stood and trekked over to where Pettigrew was standing by the exit. He gripped her arm when she was close enough, and Hermione thought she may pass out from the hatred seeping from his skin and onto her own.</p><p>Her mind was frantically trying to work out what she should do and how she should do it in a bet to save herself, Luna, and whoever else they were keeping captive here.</p><p>But what could she do? From what she could <em>feel</em>, the place was absolutely heaving with wards. Even if she <em>had</em> her wand, she doubted she would be able to apparate away. And she didn’t feel strong enough to strike Pettigrew on the head and steal <em>his</em> wand, because she had no clue what or <em>who</em> she’d be fighting to bid herself to safety.</p><p>It quickly dawned on her <em>who</em> she would be fighting if she tried to get away once she had been tugged to the top of the stone stairway, and was overlooking a Grand Manor entranceway.</p><p>Standing underneath the chandelier, was Bellatrix Lestrange and Stanley Shunpike, both with evil expectant smiles on their faces.</p><p>Hermione knew there were others there too, she could feel their looming stares and hear their heinous laughter, but she didn't dare to look. It would only intensify the bile rising in her stomach.</p><p>“Is it her? Is it?” Shunpike hissed, as Pettigrew dragged her closer. “She looks different, what happened, is it her?”</p><p>Hermione flinched when Pettigrew shoved her so roughly she fell to the ground on her knees, just less than a metre away from Bellatrix’s black heels.</p><p>Hermione shot a stare around her, she was in a grand clearing in a dark, gloomy building. It was rather bare with nothing more than dark shadows of looming Death-Eaters, but her head was too busy to take in the faces just yet.</p><p>She could see a wisp of white hair, and for a moment she got hopeful before she quickly realised it was in fact not Draco but his father, staring over at her with an amused sneer.</p><p>Then, she realised she was at Malfoy Manor. She remembered seeing it in the Paper’s once, when Lucius was taken to Azkaban.</p><p>It was more blood-curdling in the flesh.</p><p>“The snatchers claim it is the Mudblood,” Pettigrew said, his voice dancing with nervousness. “From what I remember of her, it should be the right witch.”</p><p>Hermione could do nothing but sit on the floor and shiver under their stares. She knew if she had her wand, she would fight, she would injure and hurt every last one of them if it meant she could set herself free and find Draco, but she didn’t have her wand.</p><p>She was nothing but a weak teenager at that moment.</p><p>“Hm, yes” Bellatrix spoke, sending a shiver down Hermione’s spine. “Looks to be her, new hairdo, Mudblood? Doesn’t suit you!”</p><p>Bellatrix laughed as if she was rather funny, and walked towards Hermione with small, antagonising steps.</p><p>“Where’s my precious little cousin, hm? Did you part ways?” She taunted.</p><p>Hermione stayed silent.</p><p>“Cmon, Mudblood, talk!” Bellatrix snapped, clicking her fingers. “Just confirm it’s you so we can call The Dark Lord!”</p><p>Hermione whimpered as Bellatrix leant down to meet her height, her voice ghosting across her skin. Bellatrix outstretched a long, thin finger and brushed a curl out of Hermione’s face.</p><p>Yet, Hermione would not give Bellatrix the satisfaction of speaking. If she could not duel with her wand, she would duel with her voice—and that meant not using it.</p><p>“Fine, <em>fine</em>!” Bellatrix huffed, “Pansy, Pansy! You know the Mudblood, don’t you? School friends am I right?”</p><p>Hermione felt something lodge in her throat.</p><p>She hasn’t even thought about the fact Pansy, or Theo, or anyone of the sort would be <em>here</em>. But Hermione took a tentative glance to the side, and sure enough, Pansy was standing by the desolate fireplace, draped in long black robes that puddled around her ankles.</p><p>Hermione stared at her for a short moment, catching her stare. Pansy didn’t draw her eyes away from Hermione’s face, she glared at it, seizing her up. And Hermione blamed her throbbing head for thinking so, but Hermione couldn’t detect one inch of malice within her eyes.</p><p>“Pansy! I’m speaking to you!” Bellatrix hissed, waving her hand around to beckon her forewords. “Come here and tell me if this is the Mudblood you knew from school.”</p><p>Pansy stumbled towards them, tripping on the hem of her robes as she neared Hermione, who was trying to not tremble too visible on the floor.</p><p>Hermione knew that now, her hope at escaping The Dark Lord’s questioning at all was gone. Pansy knew who she was, clear as day. For a moment, Hermione got her hopes up when she thought about how Pansy had reconsigned them in the snow but kept her mouth shut. But she didn’t want to hope, she didn’t want to believe that she could be saved, because at any moment Voldemort could be called.</p><p>What would she do if she was faced with <em>Voldemort</em>?</p><p>She swallowed her bile and tried to not think about it.</p><p>Pansy kneeled in front of Hermione. If Hermione was thinking correctly, she thought that Pansy looked scared. Her eyes roamed Hermione’s face while shaking in the sockets.</p><p>And for a second, she flashed Hermione a soft smile, one that nobody else would be able to see.</p><p>“Is it her?” Bellatrix asked, her voice rushed.</p><p>Pansy gulped, and shook her head, letting black hair fall over her face.</p><p>“I can’t be sure.” Her voice was barely audible, the disappointed hisses and grunts swallowed it from the Death-Eaters around her. “It’s been over a year since I’ve seen her...and this person is injured…”</p><p>Bellatrix grasped the back of Pansy’s neck so hard she gasped. Hermione felt helpless, because she was so ridden with fear her body would not move.</p><p>“Stop being a fool, girl!” Stanley snapped from behind Bellatrix and Pansy. “Is it her or not!”</p><p>It was silent for a moment, Pansy reached out and took Hermione’s face in her hands. Hermione flinched and tried to drawback, but the way Pansy’s finger stroked her skin held her motionless like the touch was familiar yet unfamiliar all at once.</p><p>Pansy used her hands to turn Hermione’s face from left to right, grimacing at her swollen injuries.</p><p>“If we call The Dark Lord and it’s not the Mudblood, he’ll kill us all—“ Pansy said, slowly dropping Hermione’s face, her hands lingering in the gap between them. “I really cannot be sure.”</p><p>“Useless!” Bellatrix snapped, pushing Pansy so hard she toppled over, before jumping to her feet and resuming to her place beside the empty fireplace.</p><p>“Fine,” Bellatrix continued, her face drawing closer to Hermione’s, her breath drenching her skin. “I’ll have a little talk with her, girl to girl!”</p><p>Hermione suddenly wanted to jump up and throw a few punches at her evil face, but she was ridden to the cold solace of the ground.</p><p>“We too’ this the Lovegood's ‘ome, Miss Lestrange.” Someone spoke in a strong accent from behind Hermione. “We believ’ it’s her wand.”</p><p>Hermione’s body suddenly went slack with a mixture of fear and relief. But she didn’t have time to dwell on the possibilities of her wand saving her in any sort of way because Bellatrix was lurching to her feet and stumbling over to the Snatcher that was lingering by the stairway.</p><p>“Her <em>wand</em>? Hand it here!” Bellatrix hissed, holding out her hand. Before Hermione could really process anything, Bellatrix was stalking back over and pointing the wand towards her.</p><p>Hermione squinted and felt her stomach tighten the moment her eyes lingered on the yellow jewel-like locket flickering with life beneath the chandelier.</p><p>She wondered if Voldemort would have ever told Bellatrix or any other of his followers of his Horcruxes.</p><p>Her question was answered moments later.</p><p>“Hang on,” Bellatrix said, moving the wand into the light, her eyes narrowing and inspecting the locket part of the wand. “Is this <em>yours</em>? Where did you get this?”</p><p>Hermione stayed silent.</p><p>“I’m talking to you!” Bellatrix yelled, her face going red with fury. “Where the fuck did you get this, Mudblood! This does not belong to you! This did and <em>has</em> always belonged to The Dark Lord!”</p><p>“What is it, Bella?” Lucius asked from the sidelines, his voice rather tense and wobbly.</p><p>Bellatrix did not respond. She merely frowned at the wand, still studying it.</p><p>“I asked you, where the fuck did you get this!” Her voice was on the edge of manic.</p><p>She then spun it in her fingers and whispered to herself, but loud enough for Hermione to hear. “The Dark Lord will be happy to know where the locket had ended up...ha...my cousin was a <em>fool…</em>”</p><p>A stream of moonlight fell through the window at the back of the manor wall, sending a long white stripe of light over the side of Hermione’s face.</p><p>For a moment it blinded her, and she held up a hand to cascade her face.</p><p>And then, the light fell over the wand in Bellatrix’s hand and a bitter thought crossed her mind.</p><p>
  <em>I really wish she wasn’t holding my wand right now.</em>
</p><p>At this thought, Bellatrix yelped and dropped the wand to the ground, where it rolled and rolled until it stopped beside Pansy’s shoes.</p><p>“You stupid witch, you burnt me!” Bellatrix yelled, glaring down at Hermione and clutching her hand up to her chest. “What did you do? How did you do that!”</p><p>Hermione felt her lips twerking into a smirk, watching Bellatrix growl in pain from the power inside of her, that was linked to the wand, was very pleasing to the eye.</p><p>She wasn’t weak. She just needed to realise how powerful she was.</p><p>Hermione jumped to her feet, her legs wobbling as she fell forwards to try and grasp the wand from the floor, but Bellatrix saw right through her and kicked the wand further away.</p><p>Hermione reached for it again, but before she even had time to process it, Bellatrix had reached into her pocket and pulled out her own chunky black wand, and aimed it towards Hermione's head. </p><p>“<em>Crucio</em>!”</p><p>For a moment, a short bleak moment, when Hermione’s back hit the floor with a crack—she felt no pain. Not one inch of pain, instead she felt blankness. Nothing but blankness, seeping through her veins like cold fire, withering into her heart.</p><p>But it was only a moment, only a short bleak moment, and then everything hurt.</p><p>And the pain was not pain; it was torture. The type of torture that made every single bone in your body creak and split, shattering into millions of tiny minuscule pieces. The type of torture that stopped you from breathing, curling inside of your lungs like smoke from a Dragon’s mouth.</p><p>Hermione didn’t realise she was screaming until she felt something in her voice box tear. Her head arched on the floor, right where Pansy’s shoes were; and at this angle, she could see Pansy’s face staring down at her, her bottom lip shaking in what Hermione assumed to be fear and rage. There was a split second where Pansy’s fingers twitched, and Hermione thought she was going to reach out and help her, but she didn’t.</p><p>It was probably only twenty seconds of pain until everything was blank once more. Yet, it felt like an hour, it felt as if days had passed until the torture turned into nothing but ringing in her bones.</p><p>“You'll pay for this,” Hermione felt herself whispering without thinking about it. She felt something twinge at the base of her heart, right where the Dark Magic had festered after she cast her own cruciatus curse in Greenwich.</p><p>“What did you say?” Bellatrix quirked, her voice seeming more manic than it did before. “What did you say!”</p><p>“I said—“ Hermione tried to etched closer to her wand, that was a mere few inches away from her hand but her bones were on fire and she could not quite grasp it. “—that you’ll pay for this.”</p><p>Bellatrix leant down and ran a finger over Hermione’s face once more, brushing a black curl out of her face.</p><p>“Answer me, Mudblood,” Bellatrix started. “Are you Hermione Granger? Are you Potter’s filthy Mudblood? Are you an evil evil little swine? Where did you get that fucking wand? Who made it? Where did you get the Locket?”</p><p>Hermione grunted as a reply as Bellatrix gripped her wrist and pinned it to the ground.</p><p>“Where the fuck did you—“ Hermione felt something sinking into her forearm, and not before long it began to sting. “—Get that <em>Locket</em>?”</p><p>Hermione suddenly felt a stinging, burning pain in her forearm, and she couldn’t help but scream again, her throat burning with vigour.</p><p>The entire time, Hermione refused to look at the shadowy witch carving words into her skin. Yet instead, she kept her eyes glued to Pansy’s face.</p><p>Because although she was a bully, a cruel vivacious young girl who made Hermione cry more than once, she was familiar. Even more familiar right <em>now</em>, with her eyes pooling over Hermione’s face, shaking in their sockets.</p><p>At this point, Hermione couldn’t even think about answering Bellatrix’s questioning. The pain in her arm was steering, penetrating her skin. Hermione quickly came to realise that she was being cut. Words were being written into her skin with a thin white blade.</p><p>Hermione could do nothing but scream although every part of her heart was seething with lurid magic, desperate to get her hands on her wand so she could fight her way free.</p><p>But she could not.</p><p>Although she was strong, Bellatrix was stronger.</p><p>“Stop!” Somebody yelled, and it took a moment Hermione to realise it came from Pansy’s mouth.</p><p>Everyone in the room stilled, even Bellatrix. The witch peeled away from Hermione’s arm and set her blade free from the clutches of Hermione’s skin, turning to face Pansy with a glum, confused gaze on her face.</p><p>“What did you say?” Bellatrix spat, “Stop? <em>Stop</em>! You silly girl, you don’t understand what <em>that</em> holds!”</p><p>She pointed over to the wand with a shaky finger.</p><p>Pansy cleared her throat. “Sorry to interrupt you, Miss Lestrange, I just think The Dark Lord would enjoy torturing The Mudblood himself, don’t you think? We don’t want to exhaust her before his return…”</p><p>Hermione blinked away the tears in her eyes and watched as Pansy gulped.</p><p>“Besides, we can’t be sure it’s <em>her</em>. Maybe I can escort her back to the Dungeons and call a Healer for you, so we can diminish the swelling on her face.” Pansy said, her fingers twitching where they rested on the front of her robes.</p><p>Bellatrix hummed and stood up, grunting in annoyance but nodded.</p><p>“Very well...very well,” She huffed, staring down at Hermione with disgust on her face. “Take her down. We do not want to disappoint the Dark Lord."</p><p>Hermione’s arm was seething in pain, burning like it was withering in poison. But then the pain began to blur into nothing but a stinging throb.</p><p>“And, shall I take the wand too, Miss Lestrange?” Pansy asked. “I can put it in the vault on the Ground floor, so nobody threatens to claim it as there own.”</p><p>Her voice was blurred like Hermione was drifting into unconsciousness. She tried to fight it, digging her nails into her palms to keep her awake. But Pansy’s voice was still blurred, bubbling away in Hermione’s ears.</p><p>Hermione didn’t know if she was going insane, she didn’t know if the effects of the cruciatus curse were causing everything to become muddy, but something in Pansy’s voice felt different from what she remembered of her, it felt odd—familiar.</p><p>Pansy leant down to pick it up. Strangely, Hermione didn’t want it to burn her, so she cleared her mind and let her fingers grasp around it.</p><p>Hermione squinted and noticed Pansy's fingernails were not painted black as they had always been at school. Hermione wanted to chuckle, it was another bitter reminder of how things had changed since they were children.</p><p>“Very well, very well, Pansy…” Bellatrix sighed, her voice still drawn with spite. “Hurry up now...hurry up! Bring the Lovegood girl up for questioning when you return.”</p><p>Pansy nodded, and leant down beside Hermione. She was avoiding her eye but gripped her arm that wasn’t sparkled with blood and pulled her to her feet.</p><p>Hermione felt rather dizzy, but Pansy rested her hand on the small of her back, helping her walk along the long stretch in the Manor Entrance way. Hermione <em>needed</em> that help because her legs were trembling with vigour and twitching from the aftershocks of the curse that was placed on her. Hermione tried to ignore the taunts and laughter from the looming shadows of Death-Eaters around her, and not before long, Pansy was helping her down the stairs and into the dungeon, where she lit the candle again with wandless magic.</p><p>For a moment, they were cast into silence. She assumed Luna was sleeping, and took a small glance to where she had left Luna before departing with Pettigrew, and saw her friend curled into a ball by the wall, her knees against her chest and her eyes closed, casting her long painted blue eyelashes along her cheeks.</p><p>Pansy walked a little deeper into the dungeon, pulling Hermione with her, and then to her shock, Pansy pressed her against the wall, both of her hands going up to press the stone beside each side of her head.</p><p>“Jesus fuck Hermione,” She said, her breath fanning Hermione’s face. “Look what they did to you—fuck—fuck I’m so fucking sorry.”</p><p>Hermione froze. Confusion fell over her, drenching her in billow and turmoil. She couldn't decipher Pansy’s words; she couldn’t understand why Pansy was being so indifferent. Because why was Pansy Parkinson apologising to her? Why was Pansy Parkinson’s finger suddenly drawing down the side of her face and curling by her swollen lip?</p><p>“Hermione!” She whispered-yelled. “Listen to me, okay? Snap out of it, snap out of it! I have to get us out of here…”</p><p>And then, when Pansy’s hand gripped the sides of her face, her nails digging into the skin on her cheeks, it hit her like a ton of bricks.</p><p>Like delineation, images of the boathouse crossed her mind—when Draco pressed her against the wall in the tiny wooden bedroom and sank his nails into her face. And then the Safehouse, when Draco had sunk his nails into her cheeks as he kissed her neck and collarbone. It snapped her into reality, and Hermione’s eyes opened fully, taking in Pansy's features, which had an unusual crow in her brow.</p><p>Hermione’s hands came to rest against Pansy’s chest, the warmth of her body relaxing her so that she could breathe through her nose and let her brain clear itself of any reminiscences of the unforgivable curse running through her body.</p><p>Pansy’s head ducked down ever so slightly so that the ghost of her breath lingered on Hermione’s swollen lips.</p><p>“Hermione’s it’s me, It’s Draco.” She spoke, her fingernails dancing on her face until they reached her hairline. “We have to get out of here, okay listen to me,<em> it’s me, Draco</em>.”</p><p>Hermione frowned. For a moment, she thought she was hallucinating. How could it be Draco, here in The Manor’s tiny little dungeon boring the appearance of Pansy Parkinson?</p><p>It was like the name Draco had flipped a switch. Hermione suddenly felt no remorse of the curse, and her senses were returned. She frowned at Pansy, <em>Draco</em>, whoever it was, and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.</p><p>“Granger—Hermione, just listen to me, okay?” They said, hands running over her skin. “Just listen to me for fuck sake, It’s Draco, I swear it.”</p><p>“How can I believe it?” Hermione said. It hurt to speak, her throat was dry and coarse from the screaming she had just displayed by the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. “How—“</p><p>“I see Heaven's glories shine, And Faith shines equal, arming me from Fear…” They said, their breath still falling across her bruised skin. “From Emily Brontë’s No Coward Soul is mine, my favourite poetry book.”</p><p>It was Draco.</p><p>How he was here, she did not know. Why he was <em>Pansy</em>, she did not know. All she knew that he was <em>here</em>. He had come to save her, just like she had wished for.</p><p>“How—“</p><p>“Later, later just–” He took a deep breath.</p><p>It was rather hard to view him <em>as</em> Draco, with striking green eyes and shoulder-length black hair, and the voice of Pansy Parkinson. But the way he was speaking was rather reflective of the boy she knew, and his actions, the soft hands on her face and the ghost of his breath, did nothing more than confirm it was him.</p><p>“Just focus now, okay, <em>focus. </em>We have to get out of here,” He continued. “This wand, this stupid fucking wand. It wants to protect you when it can. Doesn't it? Think, try and fucking <em>think, </em>what else could it do to protect you?”</p><p>As he rambled, Hermione’s blurred vision watched as his eyes changed from Pansy’s strong greenback to his icy grey. And his face began to blob in places, where it slowly but surely returned to his usual state. And when his hair dissolved back to its usual <em>white </em>colour, which Hermione hadn’t seen outside of the vicinity of the safehouse in months, Hermione almost cried from relief. </p><p>Though, it only confirmed her worst fears. She needed Draco more than she had ever even realised.</p><p>So Hermione thought. She thought and thought and thought while staring at her wand that was poking from the pocket on Draco’s chest. Her mind felt flat, empty, hopeless.</p><p>“I—I don’t know.” She whispered, fingers shaking.</p><p>“Here,” Draco pulled the wand from his pocket and placed it on her chest, holding it there until she raised her shaking hands and gripped it. “Think, okay, we have to go before they call <em>him</em>.”</p><p>Hermione nodded and closed her eyes. The wand vibrated in her hands like it did every time she held it, but at this moment, it tingled with reliance, seeping through the seams of her skin and in her brain. She took a look over at Luna’s small frame and felt sadness and desperation coating her. She had to help them, she had to save them. She had to save herself, because what else would she have ran away for?</p><p>She snapped her eyes open when it hit her.</p><p>“Your house has anti-apparation wards, doesn’t it?” She asked.</p><p>He nodded slowly.</p><p>“We can’t go back to Southwark,” Draco said, somewhat sadly. “The Snatchers used location spells on me, so they know where I have been staying. If this <em>can</em> apparate us, we will need to apparate onto the edge of the Manor, that's where Pansy is, then—“</p><p>“Pansy? Why do you need to get to Pansy? Aren’t we leaving her here?” Hermione asked. She could hear Luna stirring in the edge of the dungeon, yawning absentmindedly. "Did something happen, did she speak to yo–"</p><p>“You think I’m leaving her <em>here</em>? They’ll think <em>she</em> set you free when they realise you and Luna are missing.” Draco continued. “Just trust me, okay?”</p><p>Hermione nodded once more, at the same time a small “Draco?” echoed from where Luna was stirring. She was on her feet now, pattering towards the two of them on the other side of the dungeon.</p><p>Draco spun on his feet, leaving Hermione shivering on the wall behind him. He held a finger up and jabbed it in Luna’s face, a sneer ridden on every inch of his features.</p><p>“You’re here? Whats goi—“</p><p>“Of course I'm here, you <em>idiot!</em> Your stupid pollock of a father got Hermione locked up here for no good reason! Do you think I’m just going to let her wither away to die? Of course I’m here! God, and when I thought I could trust you, when I thought I could consider you’re stupid bimbo ass my friend—“</p><p>Luna interrupted him by holding up one bruised hand.</p><p>“My father got her sent here?” Her voice was dreamlike as if she was still sleeping. “That’s...that’s rather interesting...my father told me he’d keep Hermione safe if anything like this ever happened, by the orders of Harry Potter...well Draco, I apologise, but that’s nothing to do with me!”</p><p>Hermione interjected, throwing herself between the two of them before Draco could spit any more insults back at her. She placed one hand on Draco’s chest, fingering the thread on the black robes draped over his skin and sent him a soft, sad smile.</p><p>“Let it go, Draco,” She said, her words drowned out by the sound of footsteps approaching the dungeon doorway. "We need to go."</p><p>“Miss Parkinson, Bellatrix has told me to fetch you, you’re taking awfully long.” Pettigrew’s voice trailed through the air.</p><p>Hermione gripped Luna’s forearm, and Draco gripped Hermione’s shoulder.</p><p>
  <em>Please let this work. Please protect me. Please get us out of here.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Please let this work. Please protect me. Please get us out of here.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Please let this work. Please protect me. Please get us out of here.</em>
</p><p>Hermione repeated it until the wand felt rather hot in her hand, the locket burning nicely against the flesh of her palm like a comforting agreement. </p><p>She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she landed on a foggy, wet patch of grass with a crack. Around her were tall green hedges, all drenched in the spring rain. And there were tall trees behind her, looming over her like ghostly shadows, yet subjecting her to any of the rain that was still falling.</p><p>“Oh my gosh! What happened to her!” Luna gasped, and Hermione pulled herself up from the sodden grass to see Luna running over to where Pansy was laying on a wooden bench beneath the troop of branches, her head rolling lifelessly to the side.</p><p>Luna fell against the bench beside her, and gripped one of Pansy’s hands in her own, tugging at it in some sort of attempt to wake her up.</p><p>Hermione and Draco both shot each other a confused glance as if to say, <em>why does Luna care so much if Pansy is hurt or not? </em>Hermione believed the two of them didn’t even know one another existed. She didn't let the thought linger, because they had more to worry about.</p><p>“She’s fine, sleeping jinx, needed her to be immobile if I wanted to pull out her hair for polyjuice potion,” Draco said with a wave of his hand, “I'll wake her up once we find somewhere safe to go, wherever that may be.”</p><p>Luna shot him an angered glance and continued to hold Pansy’s hand. Pansy was also draped in Black Robes, so Hermione quickly assumed the robes adorned on Draco’s back were taken from his own bedroom somewhere in the Manor. She ignored the bile rising in her stomach at the thought.</p><p>“Any ideas?” Draco asked, glancing between the two conscious witches.</p><p>Luna stood, stumbled over in the wet grass to where Draco was standing and jabbed his chest with one of her messy-painted yellow nails.</p><p>“Have the decency to let her wake up somewhere she feels safe—“ Luna paused like she was almost afraid of speaking her next words. “—Hermione, apparate us to Grimmauld Place. She feels <em>more</em> than safe there.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Twenty-Eight.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Apparently, the moment Hermione stepped into Grimmauld Place, she passed out as soon as Walburga Black's portrait began to scream at her.</p><p>She didn't wake for what felt like days, and when she did, she felt rather disoriented and rather sick. She woke to a soft thudding in her forehead and a dull piercing ache in her bones.</p><p>There was a tedious burning on her forearm that she tried desperately to ignore.</p><p>The room she had woken in was dark, and if it wasn't for the soft sheets draped over her body, she would've thought she was back inside the Manor's dungeon.</p><p>When Hermione's eyes focused and adjusted to the light, she could see a tall thin lamp holding a beaten candle burning, engulfing a small dresser,  green and gold wallpaper, and a bookshelf holding hundreds of old artefacts in a warm yellow light.</p><p>She then realised, with a warm beating feeling coasting through her veins, this had been the room she occupied with Ginny all those years ago, when Grimmauld Place remained as the headquarters for The Order Of The Phoenix.</p><p>Though she didn't have time to dwell on her surroundings, because the door was being pushed open with a loud creak, and in walked Luna.</p><p>"Hermione, are you awake?" Her voice was quiet, fearful almost. Hermione sat up against the headboard with a hiss of pain and gave her a smile. "Ah, good, you're up..."</p><p>Luna sat beside the bed on what Hermione assumed was a stool and switched on the bedside lamp, coating her in light.</p><p>"How are you feeling now?" She asked, her face twitching with some sort of nervousness. "The swelling on your face is almost all gone, which is good. You've been asleep for about twelve hours, without any dreamless sleep potion..."</p><p>"I'm—" Hermione's voice came out much more coarse than she had expected it to, and had to clear her throat harshly before speaking. "I'm okay, I guess, I'm just a little confused."</p><p>Luna pursed her lips together and ran her fingers over the dreadlock falling over her torso, fingering it apprehensively.</p><p>"Yes, I assumed you would be." Luna sighed, "Let me explain it to you, but your head must still hurt, doesn't it? Try your best to understand, okay?"</p><p>And then Luna rambled on for what felt like hours.</p><p>She started by speaking about why she was even <em>at</em> Malfoy Manor in the first place. The Snatchers had kidnapped Luna in a bid to stop her father publishing any more provocative Quibbler issues. Apparently, he had taken a liking to brandishing drawings of Voldemort's head sitting on a chicken's body.</p><p>Then, she very slowly and very carefully explained why and how Pansy Parkinson was staying at Grimmauld Place.</p><p>"It's best if you hear it from her, but she's—well she is somewhat apprehensive to speak to you. So I'll try my best to explain it from her side of things." Luna started, propping her elbows up on the bed. "All that stuff, in the papers, about her and Theodore Nott—"</p><p>She paused, took a deep breath and rested a hand on top of Hermione's. "It's <em>rubbish</em>. Absolute rubbish."</p><p>Hermione's head began to pound with confusion.</p><p>"But how—"</p><p>She paused when the door creaked open and Pansy Parkinson's face poked around the edge of the door, the candle catching the speckles of green within her eyes and making them glimmer beneath it.</p><p>"Am I interrupting?" She asked, her voice small. "I can come back later, when she feels better? Draco is <em>insisting</em> I speak to her <em>now</em>, but if she's sick—"</p><p>Luna stood and rushed over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Speak to her, Pans, it'll be fine."</p><p>Hermione wanted to scoff at how they spoke like she wasn't there. How they looked at each other as if they were the only people in the room. Yet, she felt no anger towards it, because trepidation was positively dripping from every inch of Pansy skin, floating into the room and creating a shield of pliability.</p><p>And, if Hermione was thinking correctly; Pansy Parkinson was...<em>different</em>. Other than her silky-raven hair being cut to her chin and her face ageing in more ways than one, her stance was less complicit, less guarded and less bitchy. Before, Pansy would have sneered at her and yelled childish things when people were looking. And Hermione was <em>never</em> able to tell what Pansy had intended by the soft smiles she used to shoot her when nobody was around, or even what the vial of love potion she had left on her desk one random Thursday afternoon had meant.</p><p>But now, like a sunray in a dark shadow—it made sense. Pansy was just a mean girl with a teenage soul trying to escape. And now, she hoped that's what was happening. She hoped the teenage soul was, or <em>is</em> escapinging the clutches of her bitchy exterior.</p><p>Yet, she didn't want to get her hopes up. She hadn't spoken to Pansy in over a year. She hadn't <em>seen</em> Pansy in over a year, despite the day in the snow. Did she even want to accept Pansy as being someone to <em>know?</em> Because, why should she? Pansy had made her cry more times than once. Pansy had bruised her confidence and added to her anxiety more times than once.</p><p>But something lingering in Luna's voice made her curious. What was Pansy doing here? Why was Pansy <em>here</em>?</p><p>What did Luna mean by "It's <em>rubbish</em> Absolute rubbish."?</p><p>Hermione watched somewhat awkwardly as Pansy strolled over and took the seat in which Luna had been occupying. She was clutching a small satchel which fell over her black dress and her eyes avoided Hermione's gaze, like she was uncomfortable or afraid of what Hermione was going to say or do.</p><p>Pansy Parkinson, <em>afraid</em>? She wanted to laugh.</p><p>It was silent for a moment, until Luna broke the awkward lull in the room, "I will be going then, Hermione just let me know if you want any pain relief potions, I have some in my room."</p><p>She disappeared with a short nod and closed the door behind her.</p><p>"Uhm—" Pansy cleared her throat. "I should explain what I'm doing in your house."</p><p>Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh, this isn't <em>my </em>house..."</p><p>"Well, yeah, I know, but, Harry Potter is the owner now, isn't he? And you stayed here for a while...That's what the portraits say, anyway." Pansy said, still avoiding Hermione's eye, instead keeping them trained to the mirror on the far side of the room.</p><p>"I guess so." Hermione wasn't sure how much information she should relay to the Slytherin sitting beside her. Hermione knew better than to put too much trust into people.</p><p>"Right yeah—anyway, Granger, I know I need to explain myself." Pansy sighed, drawing a finger through her black hair.</p><p>"Cut to the chase, Pansy," Hermione said, trying to not let her voice sound too snappy, but she was tired and annoyed. She wanted to know the <em>truth. </em>"And don't lie. I'm sure Luna has Veritaserum. Are you trying to hunt Draco town and drag him to the Dark Lord, or not?"</p><p>Pansy seemed to be taken aback, because her eyes snapped from the mirror and onto Hermione's face.</p><p>"No." She said, voice tense. "Of course not. I think you know how close me and Draco have always been. You think I'd throw all of that away?"</p><p>Hermione peered down at Pansy's forearm. "<em>That</em> says differently, though."</p><p>Pansy scrabbled to cover the mark on her forearm and her cheeks blushed a dark red beneath the yellow light echoing around the room.</p><p>"You think I want this? You think I'd throw everything away to get my best-friend killed by the Dark Lord?" Pansy quirked, seeming annoyed. "I wouldn't. I would never do that. I may be a bitch but I'm not <em>evil!"</em></p><p>"I'm just confused," Hermione said, looking downcast at the moth-eaten holes in the bedspread. "The Daily Prophet—"</p><p>"We only <em>made</em> The Dark Lord <em>think</em> we wanted to find Draco for <em>him</em>. We couldn't just pack up and leave The Manor with no explanation, so Theo offered himself to hunt for him—if we found him, then we'd hide together like we are doing now."</p><p>Pansy paused, looking sad for a moment. "We just wanted to make sure he wasn't <em>alone."</em></p><p>The situation whirled around Hermione's head like a tornado. Her heart began to clench and her stomach felt funny and she was unsure if it was from her lack of food or the information being told to her.</p><p>"So, we go back to the Dark Lord every fortnight and update him on any news, but we always say there is nothing. The Dark Lord doesn't <em>really</em> care all that much, he has more pressing matters on his mind than Draco, so it was a good way for us to be sly and escape the manor." Pansy continued. "And then Theo mentioned hearing that Xenophilius was working on removing the Dark Mark years ago, so we visited. And that's when Luna led us here."</p><p>Pansey paused again. "And I know you probably wonder, <em>Luna? What's Luna doing meddling in all of this? </em>But I guess she'll want to tell you all about that."</p><p>Hermione frowned. "But Theo killed the Graham—the fisherman—Not Montague, obviously—that day. He was innocent and Theo just <em>killed him."</em></p><p>"I never said we were going to be merciful on our hunt for Draco. We thought the fisherman was a threat, so we got rid of him, if it meant we could find Draco and Blaise, then we'd kill anyone we needed to."</p><p>"Blaise?"</p><p>Hermione assumed Luna would have updated her on any circumstances surrounding Blaise. After all, Pansy and Luna did seem to be very good friends. <em>How, </em>Hermione did not know.</p><p>"Yeah, that stupid little swine!" Pansy said, but her lips twerked at the sides. "He ran away too! Pussied out as soon as Narcissa was killed, and somehow ended up in some tiny old cottage by in a forest with some twins from Hogwarts—Not the Weasleys, God no!"</p><p>She waved her hand and continued before Hermione could ask questions. "Luna took us to him a week or so ago. Me and Theo had asked her to keep our occupancy here a complete secret, and Blaise the same, so we never knew of each other."</p><p>Hermione frowned. It was the most bizarre situation she could think of.</p><p>"None of this makes much sense," Hermione said sadly, her head thumping. "None of this seems...plausible. Luna just didn't tell you about Blaise? And Vise Versa? You mean to tell me, Luna was helping not only Draco, but you and Theo <em>and </em>Blaise at the same time and none of you knew about it?"</p><p>Pansy chuckled, nodding her head to tell Hermione she agreed with her. The lights danced in her raven hair, and her fingers continued to play with the straggly parts of her fringe.</p><p>"Luna is a very loyal girl, she kept her promises to us, and her promises to Blaise and Draco." Pansy said, a small smile twitching at her lips. "She just wanted to impress her father, I think. I think she wanted Xenophilius to know she was more than supportive of his research surrounding the Dark Mark, even if that meant keeping us all in the dark. She did so <em>much</em> at one time, she helped so many people, I don't think she even realises how insane she is."</p><p>"We never told Luna that we were searching to help him. I'm sure if we had brought that up we would've been told about his whereabouts. But we were too careful." Pansy continued.</p><p>Hermione nodded slowly.</p><p>"We just wanted our Best-Friends back, you know?" Pansy said after a moment of silence. "We are just children. Me, Blaise, Theo, Draco, Luna. Even you. We are all just fucking children trying to survive this war."</p><p>A lump grew in Hermione's throat and she had to gulp aggressively to press it away.</p><p>"Nobody deserves any of this," Pansy said, her eyes lingering on Hermione's face. "And, I'm past the point of caring about your Blood-Status. I'm past the point of arguing with you and your silly lion friends. I just want to fucking <em>survive.</em> I know we will never see eye to eye, but just in the six hours I've been awake, I can see how much Draco sees in you, even if I never understand it, even if I never would have ever placed you and him in the same constellation, my friend's happiness is all I care about."</p><p>"Yeah." Hermione gulped. "Yeah, I guess you're right."</p><p>"I'll—Uhm—I'll let you rest." Pansy said, going to stand, but Hermione tugged at her hand to keep her seated.</p><p>"That day in the field. You knew it was me and Draco, and if you were looking for Draco to <em>save </em>him, why didn't you save him right there and then?" Hermione asked, her voice still dry.</p><p>"Ah," Pansy said sadly. "Not only was I extremely shocked to see <em>Hermione Granger</em> in the company of Draco, we also couldn't trust Montague."</p><p>"Is that who was with you? The two others?"</p><p>"Yeah, Graham Montague, couldn't trust him at all, but The Dark Lord had vouched for him to join us that day—anyway—I said no when Montague called out to me, because if I started yelling out '<em>He is here! He's here!</em>' then, Graham could've hurt you, or Draco, do you understand me?"</p><p>Hermione nodded slowly.</p><p>Pansy suddenly looked rather solemn.</p><p>"I stumbled back over to Theo and whispered to him that Draco was there, but by the time we returned, you were both gone." She said. "I—I didn't tell him that you were there, though. I didn't want to confuse him."</p><p>Once again, Hermione let the information simmer for a moment. Not only had Pansy just revealed that another of her classmates, Graham Montague was also a Death-Eater, but she had also admitted that at that moment, she wanted to save them and failed trying to do so.</p><p>Before she could ask anymore questions, Pansy stroked her hand awkwardly before standing. She went for the door, but paused and opened her black satchel, pulling out three books that Hermione instantly recognised.</p><p>"I found these in one of the rooms upstairs," Pansy said, placing them on her lap. "I assume they belonged to you, Ron and Harry. I didn't read them as much as I really wanted to."</p><p>"I haven't seen these in years..." Hermione said with sadness dripping through her words. "Thank you, Pansy."</p><p>"You're welcome, Hermione." The witch replied. "You have to tell me all about that wand, sometime."</p><p>She shot Hermione a small smile and disappeared through the door, closing it behind her.</p><p>And then it was just Hermione alone with her thoughts. Her confused, thudding thoughts that cascaded around her brain like wildfire. And although there was so much information Hermione could barely process, she let it simmer until it sank in. Pansy and Theo were good. All they wanted was to help. Blaise had rekindled his friendships with Draco, Theo and Pansy and Luna had meddled in more than one person's life, all to protect them and help her fathers study against the Dark Lord.</p><p>She tried to not ponder over the little things. She pressed away the pressing thought surrounding Narcissa Malfoy's death and she pushed away from her questions that asked her how Luna had landed in Grimmauld Place in the first place.</p><p>Hermione just hoped there would be enough time to figure everything out, before something else came crashing down upon them.</p><p>But now, wrapped up in the tiny moth-eaten bed she used to share with Ginny, she let tears slip from her eyes, staring at the pages of her old diary that was littered with polaroids of her and her friends.</p><p>And strangely, she craved the velvet sofa back at the safehouse, because suddenly, everything felt a little more terrifying.</p><p>—</p><p>To Hermione's surprise, Grimmauld Place was almost exactly as it had been when she last left it.</p><p>She carefully walked the halls on the upper floor, her fingers dancing over the battered wallpaper and her sock-clad feet collecting dust in her wake. Feeling it was best to not enter any of the rooms on the upper floor and risk seeing an old memory she didn't yet want to recover, she hugged her blue jumper, that was left on her bed by Luna, and descended down the great ornate staircase. The staircase flooded hundreds of memories in her mind just from placing one foot on the top step; she thought about how Fred and George would hand her extendable ears to hang over the bannister to hear the meetings and the time Ginny flew down them riding a magic-carpet she had found in a random wardrobe.</p><p>Hermione was absentmindedly rolling her wand in her fingers, enjoying the warmth that leaked into her skin from the locket part of the handle.</p><p>As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she grimaced at the row of shrunken house-elf heads, that were mounted on the wall on plaques. Her heart swelled at the sight of the withered umbrella stand made from the severed leg of a troll, which she remembered Tonks knocking over and setting off the screaming portrait her first night here.</p><p>Speaking of portraits, Hermione followed the grand, dingy corridor round and stood at the edge of the hallway that descended into the kitchen. Along the wilted wallpaper were over twenty portraits of past occupants of the house. Hermione walked on and studied each-one carefully, like she had years gone before when she grew bored of Harry and Ron's games of Wizards chess.</p><p>Her eyes fell over the portrait of Ursula Black, wife of Dumbledore's old friend Phineas. She was a ragged woman with long raven-coloured hair and a long crooked nose. For a moment she was completely still, like a muggle painting, but as Hermione's fingers reached towards the canvas to stroke the painting, she hissed <em>'Get away from me you filthy Mudblood!" </em>To which Hermione gasped and moved on to the next painting.</p><p>It wasn't as if Hermione had never seen these portraits before, she and the former-house occupants had tried many times to strip the frames from the walls and failed. The portrait beside Ursula was not much kinder, he growled and raised a fist to the edge of the canvas and told her yelled <em>'leave my home before I burn it to the ground with you in it!'</em></p><p>Yet, Hermione just laughed. For some strange reason, she felt giddy since waking up. Some sort of playful happiness ran through her and she felt something warm trickling inside of her stomach. Although she felt extremely anxious at the fact she was not at the Safehouse in Southwark, which had made her unbelievably comfortable, she felt content, unlike how she had felt hours earlier. </p><p>Because as she walked the halls it felt, in some strange way, that she was back <em>home</em>. Even though Grimmauld Place was void of everyone she knew; Harry, Ron, Ginny, the Twins. Even Sirius, Molly and Tonks, it still felt like a warm hug despite its cold decor, and it felt like childhood.</p><p>Hermione continued walking, skipping slightly despite the ache in her bones. Although she was here in the pretence that she had just been tortured and carved and starved in a dungeon, she couldn't help but skip through the halls. As long as it was anywhere that wasn't the Manor, she was happy.</p><p>She stopped just in front of the largest portrait in the house, which was covered by large blanket type red curtains. She knew this portrait all <em>too</em> well.</p><p>In her outburst of happy energy, she peeled back the curtains to take a look behind just to know if the portrait was actually still there, or if someone had ever managed to rid the painting of the permanent sticking jinx.</p><p>Of course, as she had expected, the portrait of Walburga Black still sat behind the curtains. Hermione only had a second to look over the painting of Sirius and Regulus' mother, who was withered and old, wearing a black cap on-top her curly onyx hair before she screamed.</p><p>Hermione was drenched in bitter nostalgia, as if she had been thrown back into her fifth year at Hogwarts as Walburga's portrait began to scream her usual chorus;</p><p>
  <em>"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Mudbloods! Disgusting Blood, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers—"</em>
</p><p>Hermione scrambled to close the curtains back over the painting, but her fingers trembled ever so slightly as she stared into Walburga's eyes as for a moment they reminded her slightly of Sirius Black.</p><p>"Fucking hag!" Someone yelled from beside her, and Hermione was gently pushed aside by a pair of hands as Draco shut the curtains over the portrait and tied them in a knot. "Shut your mouth before I slice the canvas down your face!"</p><p>Hermione's mouth parted at the anger seeping from Draco's skin, but she relaxed instantly with the relief of <em>seeing</em> Draco for the first time since she arrived here.</p><p>He turned towards her, his eyebrows furrowed deeply into his forehead and sighed.</p><p>"You're awake," Draco said. "Shouldn't you be resting?"</p><p>Hermione's lips twitched up at the sides without her even thinking about it, and she stepped towards him and placed a hand on his chest. It was times like this she realised how much taller he was than her, as he stared down at her through his long eyelashes.</p><p>"I feel fine, actually," Hermione told him. She was lying slightly as she could still feel the horrible sting in her forearm that lingered like a bruise. "I've slept enough, how are you feeling?"</p><p>Hermione was dancing on her tiptoes to get closer to his face. Maybe it was the fact she had been sleeping for so long, but she was bundling with energy, yet she could feel that Draco was not reciprocating the same emotions. He seemed somewhat gloomy, and his body was stiff beneath her palm.</p><p>He sighed again, his jaw tensed and he rolled his neck. He pushed away from her and started down the corridor, his white hair soaking in the light seeping from each serpent-shaped sconce above every dusty portrait.</p><p>Hermione gulped, suddenly becoming very aware of the situation that had unfolded five days ago. Draco had been stolen by Snatchers and dragged off to a place she did not know. Yes, she had been cursed and cut and starved, but what had happened to <em>him</em>? What had <em>he</em> suffered during their four antagonising days apart?</p><p>"Did they hurt you, Draco?" Hermione asked sadly, skipping to catch up with him. He started up the stairs, but drew his hand backwards so she could hook her pointer finger around his pinky. "Where—where did you go?"</p><p>As they rounded the stairs, Draco spoke.</p><p>"I was surprised that I wasn't taken directly to the Manor, if I am being honest with you, Granger." He said, grimly. "The Snatchers recognised me, of course. But they are thick as pig shit, and rather than taking me to my former home, they decided to take me to Cokeworth."</p><p>"Cokeworth?" Hermione tilted her head as they reached the landing for the first floor, growing out of breath as Draco continued walking to the third floor with some sort of desperate speed. "What—What's in Cokeworth?"</p><p>Hermione ignored the hisses of more portraits in her wake, simply clinging onto Draco's pinky finger as if it was a bind of seam holding her chest in one piece.</p><p>"Spinners End. You don't know that's where Snape lives?" Draco asked her, still not looking down at her face as he continued onto the fourth floor. "Anyway—Snape's home. Why they took me there, I have no idea. It was all a blur, really."</p><p>"Snape's home? But what were you doing at Snape's home?" Hermione asked, bewildered.</p><p>"They didn't take me to see <em>Snape," </em>Draco said with a sneer falling on the side of his face Hermione could see. "Theo was there for a meeting. They wanted his reward. He didn't give it to them though, instead, he oblivated them and sent them onto the streets with no memory of even being wizards, let alone vouchers for The Dark Lord"</p><p>"But what—"</p><p>"I was injured, the snatchers did a good job at smashing my head against the floor when they apparated me to Spinner's End." He continued, peering around the corridor before continuing up the next set of stairs. "I had a bad concussion and a curse on my legs, couldn't walk or barely talk for two days. Theo tried to explain everything, but I wasn't taking it in until he gave me dittany for my head and researched the counter-curse on my legs."</p><p>Sadness rippled through Hermione at the thought of Draco being injured.</p><p>"Soon enough I came to my senses," Draco said, a hint of sadness wavering through his voice. "I'm—I'm sorry, Granger, that I wasn't there sooner."</p><p>He stopped in the middle of the carpeted stairs, just below the opulent serpent hanging on the tall beside a cracked window. Hermione felt a hand go up to brush her cheek, where the swelling had once been.</p><p>"I tried my best to find you, I really did. Theo didn't know <em>where</em> you had been taken either, but then Pansy arrived and she, well, they explained <em>everything</em>. Yet, I was still wary. When I had the chance I snatched a bottle of PolyJuice from Snape's cupboard and knocked Pansy out. I just—I just would've done anything to help you. So yeah. That's all that I can say, Granger."</p><p>He paused and dropped his hand, turning back around to walk.</p><p>"Pansy took the truth serum when I woke her up," Draco said under his breath. "You can trust her."</p><p>Words became a virtue. Because Hermione had no clue how to respond. How could she possibly respond to the confession that he had done <em>that</em> to help <em>her? </em>He had taken potions and risked his life to save her, the Mudblood he had always hated at school.</p><p>Hermione chewed the inside of her lip and decided, maybe she should let it go. Maybe she should forget that she was ever the Mudblood from Hogwarts, and instead, she was Hermione Granger, lingering with the new soul of Rose Waterlily.</p><p>"Draco I—I don't know how to reply to that."</p><p>He shrugged, "Don't bother."</p><p>"No, but really, Draco, thank you."</p><p>As Draco continued to walk up the stairs, Hermione knew he was heading for a part of the house she had always been forbidden to explore—The attic.</p><p>Hermione never really knew <em>why</em> she wasn't allowed in the attic, but she had obeyed Sirius' orders nevertheless. It was Fred and George who had entered the attic on one occasion, and had apparated back into Harry and Ron's room with two big cuts on each of their faces, claiming <em>'Some mad Jinxes up there! Can't even pull the trapdoor down without bats flying out and gnawing at your face!"</em></p><p>She smiled at the memory, remembering the Twins antics very clearly, and stopped outside of the trapdoor to the attic.</p><p>"Since the previous owner is dead, the jinxes are gone, as I have recently learned Sirius and Regulus' had jinxed everything they didn't want anyone to see," Draco said, seemingly reading her mind. "There's something I want to show you, in here."</p><p>With a flick of his wand, a ladder came spiralling down from the gaping black hole in the ceiling. He ushered her to go first, his hand on the back of her spine as she started up the wooden ladder.</p><p>There was a besotted twitching in her legs, but she pushed away the pain that did nothing but remind her of the torture she had endured. Instead, she focused on placing two hands on the dusty floor above her head, pulling herself up into the darkness, Draco following right behind her and flicking on a switch, plunging the room into saffron ablaze.</p><p>Her mouth fell agape at the room she was standing in. It was not only much taller than she had been expecting but much larger, roughly the size of the bedroom she had woken up in.</p><p>And yet, that's not what she focused on. She focused on the round window placed in the slanted ceiling, which was splashing spring-sun over a mountain of books, all lined up messily on rickety bookshelves.</p><p>Hermione went out to reach for the books, but Draco cleared his throat, catching her attention.</p><p>"Of course Miss Granger reaches for the books first." He said. His voice had a little playfulness, but his face was still tense and solemn, like he was tired and annoyed and overall just sad. "I want to show you this first."</p><p>Draco crossed the attic, his body swallowed by the foggy dust lingering in the air. It drenched his leather jacket in a soft glow, making him look like an oil painting, composed of soft delicate lines and silky edges.</p><p>He reached down beside the bookshelf and picked up something that was pressed against the wall.</p><p>Alongside it, was a litter of mess along the floorboards;  Scrunched up balls of paper and masses of black bottles of ink and smashed glass.</p><p>The smashed glass gleamed silver and white beneath the stream of natural sun glaring through the window. It glistened like raindrops, reflecting onto the dark grey walls behind it and along the edge of the bookshelf Hermione was all-so desperate to explore.</p><p>Draco returned to her side of the attic and held out what he was holding. It was an ornate frame in a dark green, engraved with outlines of snakes and stars, made from what seemed to be very expensive resin. Hermione noticed it had once been covered in a layer of glass, that was smashed in several places.</p><p>"Narcissa." Hermione whispered, taking the frame from his hands and letting her index finger linger on the portrait in the frame.</p><p>It indeed was a very young painting of Narcissa, her long blonde hair doxed with fragments of onyx pulled into a long ponytail. Yet, she did not look like how Hermione had seen in the pictures beneath her bed. Instead of her gleaming bright smile, she was painted with lines of sadness around her eyebrows, and a glum expression falling across her lips.</p><p>And she wasn't alone in the painting either. Beside her was unmistakably Bellatrix Lestrange, her curly black hair falling across her face in the same way Hermione had seen it less than twenty hours ago on the cold Manor floor. She was too much younger. Her face was, strangely, rather placid and warm–teen-like. Somewhat beautiful, her eyes painted with delicate lines of blue. It seemed somewhat free of Dark Magic. It seemed like she was just a child, with some sort of hunger beneath her eyes that blinked up at Hermione very slowly.</p><p>Draco stood silently beside her and nodded slowly as Hermione's finger fell against the third girl in the painting.</p><p>"Andromeda!" Hermione said, memories of Harry's conversation with Sirius lingering in her mind.</p><p>
  <em>"Andromeda was my favourite cousin. She was burnt from the family tree, too. Andromeda married a Muggle-born, Ted Tonks—"</em>
</p><p>"Undoubtedly my mother's favourite sister." Draco commented.</p><p>Hermione took in her features. In a way, Andromeda was uniquely beautiful, with cascading dark hair that was speckled with honey-brown highlights. Her eyes were blue of course, like every other Black she had seen, and her lips were thin but pouted in a way that reminded her of greek Goddesses. The painting of Andromeda peered up at Hermione with a confused expression, but did not speak.</p><p>"She married the Muggle-Born, didn't she?" Hermione asked, her voice still dancing with some sort of playfulness in an attempt to cheer Draco up. "Looks as if you're following in your aunt's foot—"</p><p>Hermione paused and shook her head with a small laugh, bewildered at what she was just going to say.</p><p>"I believe it must be why my mother decided to leave, other than the unruly torment she received from the other members of the Black Family," Draco said with a wave of his hand as if he was trying to ignore what Hermione had almost said. "The Black Sisters, including my mother, moved into Grimmauld Place four years after Regulus' birth. Yet, Andromeda was soon cast away when she announced she had fallen in love with Ted Tonks."</p><p>"She is Tonk's mother," Hermione added, smiling up at Draco at the thought of her friend. "Nymphadora, I mean."</p><p>"I am aware." Draco responded, "I believe Andromeda is still living, where, I do not know."</p><p>He took the portrait from Hermione's fingers and set it down upon the wall beside the broken glass. He sighed loudly and cracked his neck.</p><p>"Draco," Hermione sighed, grasping Draco's hand. "Stop brooding!"</p><p>He sucked his teeth, an old habit Hermione hadn't missed. He stared down at her with a bitter expression on his face, one that Hermione could not read.</p><p>"There is no reason to be so happy, Hermione." He said, frowning. "That wand—"</p><p>He pointed down at the wand poking out of her jean pocket and sighed. "It's ruined everything. If it wasn't for that wand, none of <em>this</em> would ever have happened! You wouldn't have gotten hurt and I wouldn't have taken so long to find you."</p><p>Hermione only laughed, throwing her head back and letting the sunlight engulf her like a hug. Her messy curls fell down her back, tickling her beneath the blue jumper on her torso.</p><p>She pulled the wand from her pocket and swung it playfully between the gap between her and Draco's faces.</p><p>"<em>This </em>wand," Hermione said, trying her best to make him smile, "Has saved me, and <em>you</em>, more times than you realise."</p><p>He continued to sneer down at her like he wasn't convinced, but she saw the corners of his mouth snake upwards.</p><p>Guilt was ridden in his features, but she was desperate to not let him ponder the situation that had occurred. It had not been <em>his</em> fault, and it had not been <em>hers</em> either. It was simply the fault of the War. The fault of Tom Riddle, who had instructed Regulus Black to hold to locket in the first place.</p><p>Even if Draco was, and would always be, a vivacious prick. It would <em>never</em> be his fault. Because although he never cared to admit it, every bone in his body was gleaming with redemption. Even though he never explicitly <em>said </em>it, he would always feel guilty of the way he had treated Hermione back at school even if he did think she had <em>sometimes</em> deserved it.</p><p>She wouldn't allow him to feel guilty for the growing scar on her arm too.</p><p>"So—" She poked the underside of his jaw with the tip of her wand, digging it childishly into his throat. "—Stop fucking brooding, Mr Malfoy. We can't turn back time even if we wanted to. I'm alive, I'm not in the Manor, you helped me even if it wasn't as quickly as you wanted it to be."</p><p>He said nothing, but his eyes swelled golden light and she saw them glisten as he peered down at her face and pressed his palms against the small of her back.</p><p>"The only reason I wish I could turn back time is so that I could tell a sixteen-year-old Draco Malfoy that he'd be standing in a dusty old attic with <em>Hermione Granger!</em>" She laughed, still poking his jaw with her wand.</p><p>"I don't get why you're so happy." He finally spoke, his voice cracking at the end of his sentence. He cleared his throat. "I don't get why you're acting as if nothing happened, Hermione. You've been thrown into a different house with people we thought were awaiting my death by the hands of The Dark Lord. And you've been <em>tortured</em>. And you're acting as if nothing has even happened."</p><p>Hermione dropped her wand and instead let her forehead fall against his chest, finally exhaling a lodged breath in her chest.</p><p>"Because if I act like it happened, I'll break." She spoke, ignoring the way the leather jackets zipper dug uncomfortably into her forehead. "And—I don't think you're prepared to see a Gryffindor break. We're meant to be brave, so when we break we cause disaster."</p><p>"Then <em>break</em> Hermione." He groaned, his fingers sliding absentmindedly beneath the jumper on her back. "Stop acting as if you don't fucking care about what happened to <em>you!</em> If it was someone else who had been tortured and carved into like clay, you'd be screaming from the rooftop with rage ridden into your soul."</p><p>He paused. "You're acting like it's funny, you're acting like you're so fucking happy to be here. You're hiding your pain with laughter, but I can see the blood dripping through the bandage on your arm right now and you're acting as if this is child's play."</p><p>He was right. She knew he was right as much as <em>he </em>knew he was right.</p><p>But how could she break? How could she snap in half and let herself crumble?</p><p>She had run away from war only to be thrown back into it at double the speed and double the weight. She had been thrown into the presence of a wand more powerful than she cared to admit, and she was standing wrapped into the chest of an Ex-Death-Eater.</p><p>If she wanted to really break, <em>now</em> wouldn't be the time.</p><p>It would be when it was necessary. When her rage, fury and hunt for revenge was truly necessary.</p><p>As Hermione peeled herself away from Draco's body and walked towards the bookshelf, she could hear the ghost of Regulus' Black dancing in her ears.</p><p>
  <em>'You'll crack. But remember my words; A time will come when the choice between life and death stands with that wand. Crack then. Crack when you need to destroy. Crack when you need to kill.'</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione had taken a glance at the first book and had only just comprehended the title of the book when she felt her chest tighten with anxiety.</p><p>
  <em>
    <span class="u">Soul Splitting—The art of unruly magic.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>Draco placed one hand on her shoulder and told her she needed to rest and he complained that suggesting looking at these books may have been a bad idea on his part.</p><p>She reluctantly agreed, feeling the uncomfortable knot of jitter settling in her stomach. Before, she would've been more than excited to look at the dusty books, but now, since being tortured because Bellatrix had seen her wand, it made her feel rather fearful.</p><p>She knew people would be searching for her now. They always had been, but now, they knew she held something Voldemort would be more than interested in repossessing.</p><p>"I have assumed that Regulus moved all of his research material to this safehouse before his death," Draco said as they departed back down the stairway of the house. "My theory is that he stored it up there in hopes it would never be discovered if the truth of what he did became revealed."</p><p>"To protect Narcissa," Hermione murmured. "But then, why would he leave the most <em>important</em>, most obvious thing in Southwark?"</p><p>She was, of course, referring to the wand that had been placed beneath the bed.</p><p>"Well, didn't you say that in the memory it was Kreacher who took the wand at the cave? Did Regulus' say exactly where he should take it?" Draco asked, his face half-shadowed by the cobwebs littering the walls.</p><p>Hermione thought for a moment, thinking back to the terrifying memory of Regulus being dragged to his death in the cave.</p><p>"He told Kreacher to take it to the safe house," Hermione said, her feet finally coming in contact with the ground floors dusty carpeting. "So he must have taken it to the wrong one."</p><p>"Precisely why Elves are <em>stupid</em>," Draco murmured bitterly. "Ah, Kreacher has returned with our stuff from Southwark, I can't say I'm shocked there isn't more of it."</p><p>Draco waved his hand down at Molack, the majestic owl who was nestling into Hermione's small rucksack, tote bag and littering of items that lay by the front door to Grimmauld Place. Hermione had placed an extension charm on her bags to load it with more books and some clothes; but Draco was right. There were little belongings.</p><p>Hermione had never really thought about the fact she barely had <em>anything</em> anymore. Back in her family home, she had things such as vanity tables with perfumes and makeup and jewellery. She had a large grey ottoman bed which stored more books and even paints and pencils beneath the mattress. And she even had a pinboard above the headboard which displayed nicknacks and photos of things from Hogwarts, such as her ticket to Hogsmead and a chocolate frog trading card.</p><p>For a moment, she almost felt sad. She almost felt resentful for letting her life crumble into so many broken pieces. Yet, she couldn't linger on the thought, as her eyes were drawn to Draco's sketchbook that was laying ascrew on the floor, it's pages open.</p><p>Hermione squinted, trying to make out the contents of the drawing. But it was undoubtedly another grave, her name shining on top of the stone in dark shaded gothic letters.</p><p>She felt sick. </p><p>She had believed Draco was past that point. She thought he no longer viewed her as a fallen angel ready to dissolve into dust—but she was clearly wrong.</p><p>Draco cleared his throat, and placed a hand on the small of her back.</p><p>"Shall we go into the drawing-room?" He suggested, kicking the sketchbook closed with his foot. "Kreacher can take our stuff to your room later on."</p><p>"Uhm—" Words failed her. Her throat felt tight and constricted like death was battling inside of her throat blocking all air. She cleared her throat and tried to part ways with the drawing she had just seen. "Sure."</p><p>The drawing-room was just as Hermione had remembered it. A baroque fireplace sat on the far side of the wall, guarded by two tall lamps that had beryl, fringed shades. On-top the faded old rug that breathed little clouds of dust every time anyone put their foot on it, sat the piano Hermione and used many times, paired with the small double-stool that was sunken in from hundreds of years worth of playing by many residents that had once lived in the home.</p><p>Hermione smiled at the familiar cabinets filled with strange and oddly menacing knickknacks. Such as claws and teeth and jars of eyeballs, Draco eyes ran over the contents with a sneer on his features, like he was revolted by its contents, but still stepped deeper inside the tall room to inspect it.</p><p>The curtains still hung as gloomy as ever, like two great blankets coating the windows that were cracked in several places. Hermione vividly remembered spraying Doxycide at the curtains for several hours on her first week here, attempting, with the help of Ginny, The Twins and Molly, to battle the Doxies that buzzed like an invisible bee's behind the fabric. She smiled fondly, as the curtains were now dead silent like their vicious attack with Doxycide had worked, or maybe the Doxies had seen what Fred and George had done with their dead bodies and were too scared to ever come back.</p><p>And unmistakably, sitting mirrored on the rug were two grand green and gold chairs that looked like they belonged in a museum rather than a cobwebbed home, and if it wasn't for the rat-eaten holes and exhales of dust every time you sat on it, you'd believe that they were brand new.</p><p>On-top the sofa closest to the roaring fire was Pansy and Luna, both curled up beneath a fluffy blue blanket. Pansy was sitting between her legs, letting Luna curl her fingers in her silky hair that seemed ridden with some sort of flour or dust. She was flicking through a cookbook, a <em>Muggle </em>cookbook that Hermione had seen her own mother use to prepare a meal once upon a time.</p><p>The two girls looked up at once, and Pansy's eyes seemed to widen in embarrassment as she scrambled from Luna's lap and almost fell face-first onto the rug.</p><p>Hermione shivered with annoyance at the way she was treated as if she was an alien. Though, she knew it was not Pansy's fault exactly. It must be just as strange for <em>her</em> to see one of her ex-arch enemies walking the halls with Draco, as it was for Hermione, seeing her lingering on the sofa with Luna Lovegood.</p><p>"You're up!" Luna smiled, throwing the blanket astray onto the rug. "<em>Again</em>, anyway! How are you feeling?"</p><p>Luna's hands came up to press against her cheeks as a wide smile fell across her features, illuminating the smudged brown lipstick she was wearing. Draco lingered off somewhere to the side, seemingly peering through the glass of the cabinets, screeching slightly as a bottle of ink sprouted legs and growled at him.</p><p>"Much better actually. It just feels bizarre being back here." She said, letting Luna pull her to the sofa opposite the one she had just been sitting on. "It feels much emptier now."</p><p>"Well, it's good you feel better, like I said if you need any potions I can get them for you." Luna said, still smiling. Luna's face was still bruised ever so slightly beneath her eye but the cut on her lip was completely gone.</p><p>It was silent for a few seconds, Pansy stared blankly into the fireplace like she was unsure how to speak to Hermione in a normal, non-aggressive way. The only sounds occupying the air around them was the sound of the wind behind the broken glass on the window, the crackling of the fire and the sound of Draco's screeching as more items tried to attack him from within the glass.</p><p>Luna clapped her hands together to break the awkward tension filling the air.</p><p>"We baked you both a cake!" Luna beamed, jumping to her feet and pulling Pansy with her. Pansy just stood awkwardly, so Luna elbowed her in the ribs and continued, "Didn't we Pans!"</p><p>"Uh—well, yeah." She said, changing her eye-line from the fire to Draco who was still exploring the room like he was half-revolted and half-amused. "Well, Luna did mostly, I <em>tried </em>to help, but I'm not the best baker."</p><p>It explained the flour dancing in Pansy's hair.</p><p>"Kreacher!" Luna snapped her fingers and smiled as the House-Elf marginalised at her feet with a crack. "Ah, there you are. Fetch the cake we baked from the kitchen, please."</p><p>"Very well, Miss Luna." Kreacher said, bowing his head before heading in the direction of the kitchen, mumbling under his breath, "Baking silly little cakes like Muggles, what would my Mistress say about <em>Muggle</em> baking in her home?"</p><p>Draco hissed, but Hermione spoke before he could attempt to reach for the elf to swottle him.</p><p>"You and Kreacher seem to be rather friendly..." Hermione noted, watching Luna sink back into her spot on the sofa.</p><p>"I suppose so, I've always liked House-Elves though, since you took me down to the kitchens that one time to hand out the knitted hats." Luna said with a shrug.</p><p> Pansy crossed the room to start up a conversation with Draco.</p><p>Hermione liked the way his eyes flashed as she spoke, as if he was staring into the eyes of someone important and comfortable to him. Hermione felt happy he had a <em>friend</em>, someone to talk to about things she didn't understand.</p><p>"It's a rather strange pairing, how did that come to be?" Hermione asked carefully.</p><p>Luna spoke with a dazed-like tone in her voice, as if the memory she was retelling was something glorious and grand, but to Hermione, it was just simply strange and bewildering.</p><p>"Well, the day I spoke to you at the lake, I headed to meet Draco and my father to take him to the Hotel," She started, "But before I left I had to go fetch some sardines from the kitchens to feed my Aquavirius Maggots—"</p><p>Hermione gave her a funny look, but she laughed and continued. "And it turns out that Kreacher was working in the kitchens after all, I don't know how we never spotted him, but he said he tended to hide at the back and mumble about how much he wanted to come home with Narcissa. But of course, Narcissa was not here <em>nor </em>was she at the <em>other</em> safe house. So he was rather upset, kept banging his head into the walls—"</p><p>Draco had apparently begun listening and whispered "Good."</p><p>"So he asked me to stay here and help him <em>clean</em>, but really, I think he was just lonely and wanted some company—"</p><p>Luna's words were cut short by the doorbell ringing. A sound that sent Hermione in a whirlpool of nostalgia. Every-time the doorbell rang in the past, a member of the Order, such as Snape or Moody had arrived for a meeting, but now, Hermione was thrown at a loop of who could <em>possibly</em> be arriving.</p><p>The portrait began screaming, "<em>Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Mudbloods!, Disgusting begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers—"</em></p><p>"I'll get it, I suspect I know who it is." Pansy said, ducking out of the room and yelling at the portrait to shut her up in the process.</p><p>Draco seemed perplexed too and leant against the piano with a smouldering, stubborn expression on his face. He crossed his arms, tightening the leather around his shoulders.</p><p>Moments later, Pansy returned, followed by a face that made Hermione feel slightly sick with nerves and sick with relief.</p><p>It was Theodore Nott.</p><p>"Draco! Good to see you're not dead yet mate, I finally got rid of Snape's questioning, and they now believe you escaped my hands." Theo said, humour ridden behind his words.</p><p>"Why would I be dead? Does that disappoint you?" Draco cocked his head but still let his friend engulf him in a tight hug, patting his back.</p><p>"Of course not but, it would have been rather amusing to see you die at the hands of one of those strange artefacts, one of them nearly took my eye out when I first arrived." He shivered, pointing at the cabinet in which Draco had just been exploring.</p><p>Kreacher had stumbled back into the room, holding a round cake wrapped in yellow and red icing. He stalked towards Hermione, holding it out towards her on a silver plate.</p><p>That must have been what made Theo gasp and throw his hands to his chest as he stared over at Hermione, who was sitting pale-faced on the sofa.</p><p>"Hermione Granger, what the fuck? Have I missed something?" He barked, a playful lust behind his words, he pointed between the four of them like he was in disbelief. </p><p>It was silent for a few moments like nobody knew quite how to respond, so Theo flashed an awful smile and continued speaking.</p><p>"Well, at least that means my attempt to save you from drowning in that lake at Hogwarts worked, I would've had a rather guilty conscience if you had <em>died</em> on my watch, anyway, is the cake to share?"</p><p>—</p><p>Massive thank you to Kasvosie on Instagram for the first commissioned fan-art for this book. Please go support her artwork! </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Twenty-Nine.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">Slight warning for suicide and anxiety mention. Nothing too heavy, but I thought I'd warn in advance.</span>
  </b>
</p><p>Theo’s casual and cogent confession that he had been the one to untangle Hermione from the clutches of the Black Lake’s weeds back in November, was followed by an awkward, scarce silence.</p><p>Luna had made a small gasping noise and dragged Pansy out from the Drawing room by her arm, ushering that <em>‘she had forgotten to turn the oven on’</em>. Yet, in reality, Hermione knew she could smell the shock and embarrassment echoing from Hermione’s skin and had taken it in her stride to not further said embarrassment and anger.</p><p>Pansy didn’t leave without a fight. She had dug her heels into the rug and growled <em>‘But I want to hear, I want to hear!</em>’, but ultimately had allowed Luna to drag her through the door and back out into the corridor.</p><p>Theo had paused midway in reaching out for a slice of cake and muttered, ‘Oh—That—sorry, my bad, not thinking before I speak again, ah—“</p><p>And Hermione didn’t even bother to look up to see Draco’s reaction. She could smell the trepidation coursing in the room from the seams of his skin.</p><p>Theo scrambled out awkwardly, following the dusty footprints from Luna’s boots and back out into the hallway, and set off Walburga Black’s screaming once more.</p><p>Moments later, she and Draco began arguing for what felt like the first time in forever, but really was just a matter of weeks. In all honesty, the argument was slightly agar in Hermione’s mind.</p><p>She was still half-dazed from the torture lingering in her bones and the shock of being brought back to her former Safe-House. Yet, all she knew is that Draco had felt betrayed, he had felt lied to.</p><p>He felt annoyed that she hadn’t bothered to ever tell him the real reason she had escaped from Hogwarts, and ultimately ended up by his side in the wonky hotel on the outskirts of Scotland.</p><p>Moreover than being angry and his spitting words, she felt <em>annoyed</em>. How dare he try to blame <em>her</em>. How dare he try and make <em>her</em> feel like the criminal in this. How dare he call <em>her </em>a liar, when she was nothing of the sort. She was not a lair, she was <em>not. </em>She was simply a scared eighteen-year-old who still had never admitted to herself she had an anxiety problem.</p><p>If she had yet to admit it to herself, why would she have admitted it to Draco Malfoy?</p><p>And yet, despite his yelling and anger, Hermione knew deep down it was just fueled with worry. Deep down, she knew Draco reacted with anger because he was fucking terrified of losing the only person who had ever shown any thought in <em>really</em> caring for him.</p><p>After one last wail that he was furious that he had to find out about her near-death mission from Theo and not her <em>own</em> mouth, he had pressed her flush against the piano and kissed her until she couldn’t breathe. He kissed her until her breath halted in her lungs and until she was scratching his back for some sort of attempt to recourse herself back to reality.</p><p class="">Of course, they had been interrupted by a very red-faced Theodore Nott who stumbled inside of the Drawing room and whispered, ‘Sorry! Sorry, oh! Um? <em>You two?</em> Anyway—forgot my wand…’</p><p>“I’m sorry for yelling at you.” Draco said once they were situated back inside of Hermione’s room a few hours later, after Kreacher had declared to have made dinner yet just handed them all a sandwich filled with mud.</p><p>“You shouldn’t have yelled at me.” Hermione sighed, climbing beneath the covers of the bed and wincing just slightly as she felt her bandage gnawing at the scar she had yet to look at. “I was bound to have told you one day.”</p><p>Draco ran a hand through his hair as he applied a moisturiser to his fair skin in the mirror. The only source of light was streaming from the candle-lamp beside him and igniting the back of his silk pyjamas in an amber glow, stretching over the crook of his neck and illuminating his hair to look like summer raindrops.</p><p>“I <em>just</em> apologised, Granger. It was selfish of me to yell about something like that.” He shot back, glancing at her momentarily in the mirror before continuing to rub the cream into his skin until it was dry. “I just thought we had enough trust between us for you to bring that up.”</p><p>Hermione chewed the inside of her lip until it felt red-raw. She leant against the pillow behind her neck and looked up at the ceiling that was covered in mushy white cobwebs, trying to not let her head thud with guilt or annoyance.</p><p>“It’s very embarrassing. I didn’t want you to think I was stupid.” Hermione admitted, still chewing her lip to try and stop the tears from falling onto her cheeks. “I regret it, obviously. I had no idea it was Theo who had—I am sorry, Draco.”</p><p>She knew she didn’t have to apologise. This was <em>her</em> issue and <em>her</em> issue only. There was no need for her to try and explain herself if she didn’t want to, it was something deep and personal that he may never understand. But then again, it was Draco. He had told her what she assumed to be the deepest darkest pits of his life; the secrets about his mother and her first love, about his pain surrounding the torment of his father and blood status.</p><p>Maybe she at least owed it to him to open up about <em>something.</em></p><p>“You don’t have to be <em>sorry</em>, Hermione.” He sighed, turning to face her. He lingered for a moment before crossing the gap between him and the bed.</p><p>He sat down at the edge of the bed, his hand instantly reaching to grab her own, interlinking their fingers as if they were two pieces from the same puzzle.</p><p>“Don’t <em>ever</em> be sorry for something like that. I’ve felt like <em>that</em> before too, and it’s uncontrollable. It’s hard, disgusting and absolutely horrible.” He said, running a thumb over her knuckle. “But the fact you didn’t confide in me is—well, it just makes me feel slightly guilty, as if you can’t trust me or you think I'm some horrible person—wait, I’m not trying to sound like the victim in this. Because I’m not—I just wished you would’ve told me so I could have helped you.”</p><p>“I didn’t confide in you for a long time because you <em>weren’t </em>and you still <em>aren’t </em>the nicest person in the world and I think you know that,” Hermione spoke truthfully, allowing her soul to open at seams to speak without any hindrances. “But, I didn’t tell you because you have helped me without knowing it. If it wasn’t for you and that wand and the fucking Safe-House, Merlin knows where I’d be and what I would be doing.”</p><p>Draco’s eyes closed for a smallest second before he opened them again and glared at her like she was the only person in the world, shimmering like the stars.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry that you ever felt so depressed you’d try and kill—that you would do <em>that</em>.” He said, his voice wavering ever so slightly. “I guess now it makes more sense why you would drop your life at Hogwarts to run away. I’ve always wondered about the real reason. I know you were led to the wand by Blood Magic but—“</p><p>“I’m not depressed, Draco.” Hermione said, bluntly.</p><p>He continued to look at her through half-dazed eyes as if he was trying to decipher if she was <em>really</em> telling the truth, which she was.</p><p>“It was anxiety. And I’ve never really admitted that I have anxiety before, but I really do.” She continued, her voice small. “It was the anxiety of the fucking war. It was the anxiety of having to walk around Hogwarts every day being stared at like some weirdo because Ron and Harry left me behind. It was the anxiety of having to look into Ginny’s eyes every day and wonder whether she’s going to fucking die at the hands of a Death-Eater.”</p><p>She took a deep breath and grasped Draco’s hand so that she could continue to breath straight.</p><p>“It was the anxiety of knowing that even if I survive this war I have no home to go back to. My parents don’t know me—I oblivated them—For their safety—don’t ponder on that tonight, I’ll tell you more when I feel like it—“</p><p>Draco’s eyes widened at her rash confession but he did not speak. He urged her to continue letting out her feelings by squeezing the back of her hand.</p><p>“It was the anxiety of walking around Hogwarts knowing that it could be blown to pieces at any second by The Dark Lord. The anxiety of knowing how many people have died because of that prophecy. The anxiety of knowing that I was most likely going to die, that I might still die, because The Dark Lord is more powerful than Dumbledore or Harry has ever wanted to admit.”</p><p>A tear fell down her cheek. Yet, it wasn’t a tear sadness, it was a tear relief. A small, tiny teardrop filled with the confession of why she had been so foolish to stand on the ledge in the Black Lake.</p><p> It felt like a weight was drifting from her shoulders and out of the window, never to return again.</p><p>“Right,” Draco said, eyes falling from her face to linger on her hand to which he was still grasping. “It’s great that you can admit that, Hermione. I think you need to realise, if anyone’s going to fucking survive this, it’s <em>you.”</em></p><p>He edged closer to her ever so slightly.</p><p>“Harry and Ron were fools to ever want to leave you behind, <em>really</em>. I always knew you were smart but since spending so much time with you, you’re smarter than I ever realised. There’s a reason you were led to that wand, and I think we both know why.” He continued, his lips twitching at the sides. “If anyone is capable of doing damage when it’s necessary, it’ll be you.”</p><p>Hermione nodded, knowing deep down that he was right.</p><p>He picked up her hand and placed it against his chest so the steady beat of his heart drummed through her palm and settled in her bloodstream like a dose of heroin.</p><p>He spoke as his hand covered her own on his chest. “Anxiety is horrible. It lingers in your chest when you think it's gone, ready to pounce when you least expect, but you’re Hermione Granger, just act as if it's just another riddle to crack.”</p><p>There was another thick silence before Draco continued. </p><p>“You know what's written on your forearm, by my auntie, don’t you?” Draco asked, peering down at the bandage Hermione refused to take off.</p><p>If she took it off, she’d have to constantly be reminded of why she was different.</p><p>“Mudblood.” Hermione said, “I knew from the moment she sunk her blade into my skin, I always knew that's all she viewed me as. An ugly Mudblood.”</p><p>“That scar shouldn’t remind you of what she thinks of you, Hermione,” Draco said. “It should remind you of how strong you are for escaping that situation. Of how powerful and smart you are despite your differences in the Pure-Blood ideology.”</p><p>Hermione nodded, understanding him clearly.</p><p>“And if you ever try something like you did again, I’ll bring you back to life just to kill you myself.” He added with playful humour running beneath his words.</p><p>She nodded again. Although he didn’t explicitly say it, she knew that he was telling her she would get through it, that she was brave and deceitful.</p><p>He brought his hand up to his mouth and kissed the skin on her wrist, letting his breath linger against her pulse point.</p><p>“I should go, Granger, it’s late.” He said rising, but still not letting go of her hand as he began to walk towards the door. “Goodnight, sleep well.”</p><p>She tugged him back by his hand so that he stumbled against the bed, toppling over her legs beneath the duvet.</p><p>“You’re not sleeping in here?” She asked, her eyes widening as if she was a puppy. “You’re sleeping somewhere else?”</p><p>He gulped, “I thought I would reside in the room upstairs with the empty breathing portrait, but I could—“</p><p>She knew he wanted to sleep in the room with her. He had told her <em>‘Kreacher can take </em>our<em> stuff to </em>your<em> room later on.’ </em>Deep down, she knew he was too stubborn to admit he didn't actually want to sleep alone in the room upstairs which had previously been occupied by Harry and Ron all those years ago.</p><p>“—Stay here with me, please?” Her bottom lip unconsciously pouted as if she was a child asking for a treat.</p><p>He cleared his throat awkwardly but scrambled beside her without any further begging on Hermione’s part and slid beneath the covers which Hermione had just spent hours cleaning with her wand.</p><p>She felt him pull her plush against his chest, his arms wrapping around her waist so tightly she couldn’t breathe.</p><p>His breath was lingering against her ear, fanning her curls and making them sway like roses in the wind.</p><p>Only a few minutes passed before Hermione's eyelids began to grow heavy and she felt herself swimming into the darkness of sleep.</p><p>But just before she reached twilight, she heard Draco whisper. “Goodnight, Hermione, don’t see me in your nightmares.”</p><p>—</p><p>Draco woke in the middle of the night, he disappeared downstairs after placing a small kiss on Hermione’s temple and apologising for waking her. He muttered that he had just awoken from a bad dream and needed a cigarette to relax himself.</p><p>Hermione had attempted to join him, feeling sorrow that he had a nightmare, but he brushed her away and told her to go back to sleep.</p><p>She watched him leave the room, leaving a trail of trepidation in his wake, his body stiff and slightly shielded. Hermione wondered what he had dreamt about to make him so rigid, but she couldn’t ponder for long because sleep drew her back into its clutches, and she fell asleep without the warm embrace of Draco’s arms.</p><p>She dreamt of a boat, unclear exactly of the contents, but she could remember seeing Ginny standing on the bow, her carrot-tinted hair flowing against the wind of the waves. Harry had appeared beside Ginny, his hand grasping the small of her back. They were both wearing gold rings on their fingers. </p><p>The last she remembered was walking towards them, a small smile on her face as she rocked gently against the boat’s gentle rocking. </p><p>She was alone.</p><p>—</p><p>When Hermione awoke in the morning, Draco had returned to the bed sometime in the night and was still sleeping. His head was falling back against the pillow with one hand under his hair and one gripping the duvet. He had twisted his ankle around her own as he slept, their legs twisting in a weirdly uncomfortable, yet comfortable way.</p><p>Manoeuvring her way silently out of his grip, she descended downstairs to cook breakfast—cooking meant conjuring with her wand, but it would take at least an hour to conjure everything up for the five people, and one elf.</p><p>Even if Kreacher was a little prick, he didn’t deserve to starve.</p><p>She entered the kitchen, it was still exactly as it had been when she last saw it. A large, dusty room with a vintage fireplace at the far end. Iron pans and pots hung from the ceiling above the long wooden table sitting in the center of the room, large enough to fit a couple dozen people around it for a meal.</p><p>It was a room that filled her with a sense of gloom and a sense of ador at the same time. As she crossed it to the far end by the counters, her mind flashed with vivid memories of Fred throwing the dead doxie’s at her, trying to land it in the milk of her cereal, and the image of Tonk’s sitting beside her and transforming her nose into an arrangement or snouts and beaks while Ginny laughed so hard she couldn’t breath.</p><p>Hermione used her wand to float a few plates onto the edge of the table. As they landed, she noticed a packet of cigarettes, undoubtedly smoked by Draco in the early hours of the morning, sitting next to his open sketchbook that was gleaming beneath the bitter light.</p><p>She stepped towards it, picking it up to examine the sketch on the page. She ran her finger over the edge, watching as the ink smudged, indicating it was fresh.</p><p>That thought made the drawing even more harrowing.</p><p>Her eyes ran over it, once, twice, three times. Trying to decipher what it really meant.</p><p>This time, it wasn’t <em>her</em> death. It wasn't something like an Anchor and Rose, or a Dove.</p><p>It was <em>Draco’s</em> death. His cold body in a six-foot hole, a single rose in his hands. Above him, looked to be a group of people pointing at the grave in which he was buried, but like in the past, he had drawn no faces. From the curly hair on one of the bodies, she assumed it was her, standing hand in hand with another body.</p><p>What did this mean? She couldn’t quite comprehend it.</p><p>She frowned, using her wand to cast a quick drying spell on the ink and closed the sketchbook so that nobody else could pry at his artwork.</p><p>She tried to fold away the meaning of the sketch as she began to conjure up some food. Not knowing what Pansy and Theo liked to eat put her in turmoil before simply deciding that <em>everybody </em>likes pancakes and toast, so she conjured up enough for everybody and set some warming charms on them so that they wouldn’t go cold.</p><p>She wasn’t sure of the time, but she assumed it was still early enough for everyone to be sleeping. So she sat on the table and played with her fingers, hoping that somebody would wake up and join her soon. She wasn’t used to sitting in<em> this</em> kitchen all alone. It was normally filled with voices; like Molly shouting at Fred and George and Ron’s open-mouthed chewing.</p><p>Right now, she even craved to hear the chants of the obnoxious song created by the Weasley’s following Harry’s appraisal from his Ministry hearing.</p><p>‘<em>HE GOT OFF HE GOT OFF HE GOT OFF!’</em></p><p>Hermione waved her hand to try and rid the thoughts as it was doing nothing but making her sad. But right as she was about to dig into her own jam-toast, Molack the owl came bursting through the kitchen door, dropping a Daily Prophet by her plate. For a short moment, she questioned why and how Molack was bringing her a Daily Prophet, but she remembered Luna mentioning that she wanted to keep up to date with the news while the tension between the Order and the Dark Army was beginning to rise and assumed that's why the owl had a paper.</p><p>“Thanks, Molack.” Hermione said, patting the owl on the head and smiling as it tooted happily.</p><p>There was nothing too interesting in the Daily Prophet. While Hermione knew Voldemort’s followers who worked at the Ministry were controlling what was being said in the papers, she really wished they would stop acting as if the war wasn’t happening.</p><p>On the fourth page, however, was an article paired with a photograph of herself. It was the exact same article as the time Xenophilius had handed her the Daily Prophet in his kitchen.</p><p>Beneath the article, was another headline that caught Hermione's eye, filling her chest with the fluttering notion that made her feel sick.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em><span class="u">PARENTS OF HOGWARTS STUDENTS WITHDRAW CHILDREN FROM THE WIZARDING SCHOOL</span>.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>It is no secret that parents of students who attend the Wizarding school Hogwarts are worried about their children’s well-being following the announcement of further wards being placed upon the school. As well as this, the reports that the new Headmaster, Snape is not communicating with the students is causing more tension throughout the school.</em>
</p><p>Hermione frowned and continued reading the article as she lazily bit into a slice of toast.</p><p>
  <em>“When I brought my son, Michael, home last week, he had a black eye and his legs were weak from constant hexes being thrown at him as punishment for not completing homework!” Says Tanya Corner, parent of Michael Corner, when we spoke with her last Saturday.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I don’t know what the Ministry were thinking when they approved Snape to be headmaster. My daughter, Marietta, was the victim of vicious hexes at the hand of the headmaster simply for wandering out of bed past 6pm! I’m not sure if the ministry will approve this being included in the paper but—” Said Henry Edgecombe, father of Marietta Edgecombe when we interviewed him last week.</em>
</p><p>Hermione continued to frown as she read the paper. Not only was it strange that the ministry was approving ill words against Snape and The Carrow twins, but they were also publishing first-hand accounts of abuse being laid upon the students. Hermione could only conclude it was so that they would not be named as ‘<em>Biased</em>’. Which was proven right when the next part of the article was from a parent who actually <em>agreed</em> with the ways in which Snape was running the school.</p><p>
  <em>“I think what Snape is doing with the school during these troubling times is much more effective than what that Prat Dumbledore did. Snape is teaching the students how to be vigilant and aware—For example, my daughter Millicent was a victim of bullying last week, and she wrote to tell me that the bullies got what they deserved at the hands of Professor Carrow!” Said Mr and Mrs Bulstrode, who spoke with us about their daughter who remained at the school in the Slytherin house.</em>
</p><p>Hermione felt herself grow pale and folded the paper in half, throwing it down onto the table. She caught Molack’s eye and saw her wavering as if begging to go on some sort of journey.</p><p>Then, a thought crossed Hermione’s mind. Was Ginny and the others still okay? Hearing about the abuse from the Twins and Snape only made Hermione feel <em>more</em> worried about her friends at the school, even though she had tried desperately not to think about them over the growing months. Were they even still <em>at</em> Hogwarts? Or had Molly finally allowed Ginny to return home and be with her family during this time?</p><p>Reluctantly, she quickly conjured a sheet of parchment and a quill and began to write carefully, knowing that the letters entering Hogwarts were most likely being watched.</p><p>
  <em>G</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hi. I’m not sure what to say.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>These times are troubled and I’m sorry for disappearing, I found myself in a situation that is highly important I remained in, which is what I can explain in more detail when I next see you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I must ask, have you heard from them? How is it going? How are things?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>How are </em>
  <em>
    <b>you</b>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>Hope to hear from you soon.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>— Your bushy Haired friend, H.</em>
</p><p>She quickly wrapped the letter up and tied it to Molack's leg who gave a small hoot when Hermione told her to take it to Hogwarts school, Gryffindor Tower, and the owl flew out of the kitchen.</p><p>It was silent for a moment, and Hermione questioned if what she had just done was a mistake.</p><p>Deep down, she <em>did</em> miss Ginny. Her friend was a strong-headed, vivacious young witch with a heart of gold and a soul that allowed her to take no shit from anybody—no matter how much she annoyed Hermione the weeks leading up to her departure.</p><p>Thinking about it now, Hermione questioned why Ginny and Draco never became friends. They were very similar in some aspects; stubborn, sarcastic, strong-willed and sneer-ridden, not to mention both fantastic at Quidditch. The thought of them being friends made Hermione smile down at her hands before a voice interrupted her explosive thoughts.</p><p>“Sending a letter to someone you shouldn’t be?” Theo said, his voice drifting through the room as he shouldered the doorframe of the kitchen. “Not to another boy I hope, Draco won’t be happy!”</p><p>His voice was laid with sarcasm, and the playful smile on his lips exposed that his words were not serious, but it still made Hermione’s stomach buzz at the thought of Draco ever being jealous about something like that, because they were not exactly <em>together, </em>were they?</p><p>“Maybe it’s to my secret husband,” Hermione said, matching his sarcastic tone as he strolled closer to her and leant against a countertop instead. “It’s nice to know you aren’t a mass murderer like I thought you were, Theo.”</p><p>He seemed taken aback by her sudden confession, his eyes growing wide as if he didn’t know how to respond before he cleared his throat and sat on the chair opposite her.</p><p>His cheeks were awfully red.</p><p>“Me! A <em>murderer</em>? The only person I’ve ever hurt was that stupid fisherman!” He grew awkward as Hermione’s expression tightened. “Ah well, anyway, I <em>am</em> rather nice, as annoying as I can be. Don’t ask Draco if I’m nice though, I’m sure he would be an arse and deject.”</p><p>Hermione nodded, taking a small bite of her jam-toast, trying to decide what she could possibly say to that. She wasn’t very used to speaking with people like Theo—people who were sarcastic and warm yet so cold and stubborn all at once. Maybe that’s what made Theo the perfect Slytherin.</p><p>“I’m sorry, by the way, Granger.” He added, running a hand through his messy brown hair. “For exposing what you did at the Black Lake, it wasn’t my place to announce that at all. I just got all nervous seeing you and it’s the first thing that came to my mind.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, Nott.” She said back in a flippant tone. “I didn’t even know you were still at Hogwarts then, I—well I thought you had already left the grounds.”</p><p>Theo pursed his lips together as he silently gave a flick of his wand to turn the kettle on.</p><p>“I came back.” He said, in a mused tone. “For something, some<em>one. </em>But it didn’t work out.”</p><p>Hermione took another bite of her toast and swallowed it dryly.</p><p>“You came <em>back?</em> For who? All of the Slytherin’s that you were actually friends with had already vacated the school as well.” Hermione asked, watching as he brought the kettle over to him along with a spoonful of coffee and poured himself a drink.</p><p>“Well—“ He paused as if he was highly considering speaking the words he wanted to. “For you.”</p><p>Hermione choked on her toast and heaved.</p><p>“<em>What</em>?” She gasped, her eyes widening.</p><p>“Oh, Granger, you’re barking!” He said, smirking. “Listen, I thought recruiting the brightest witch of our age into our gang to help find Draco would be useful. Besides, I always thought I saw him sparing glances at you in the halls, I thought maybe your Gryffindor <em>charm</em> could lure him back.”</p><p>He paused, his eye twinkling. “I guess it did, in the end.”</p><p>“That’s bizarre!” Hermione scoffed, hardly believing his words. “I—But you still left without me.”</p><p>Theo took a sip of his coffee and winced at the strong taste. “Well no, in case you forgot you were basically <em>dead</em>. I panicked and grabbed the smartest Slytherin I knew instead, from the year below, She's called Grace, do you know her?”</p><p>The way Theo’s eyes lit up told her there was something about this Grace girl he wasn’t saying. </p><p>“Well, she’s really not as smart as we thought. Yet, she’s spectacular, she came with us on our ‘missions’ to find Draco—“ Hermione then realised she must’ve been the other girl in the cloak she did not recognise, the day in the snow. “She's a Montague, Graham’s cousin, loosely, dear god is she nothing like Graham. She's great. She knows we don’t want to kill—“</p><p>“You are swooning, Theo.” A voice interrupted, and in swept Pansy. Her hair was extremely sleek for someone who had just been sleeping, and her nightdress was made of emerald silk, exposing several tattoos on her skin. “If you can’t tell, Granger, Theo’s in love.”</p><p>Pansy made some sort of swooning noise and fell into a seat, ignoring the middle finger that Theo sent her way. Instead, Pansy fell awfully quiet again, like she wasn’t quite sure how to talk to Hermione.</p><p>“You made all this food?” Theo asked, raising a brow as he finally realised the mini feast on the table.</p><p>“I conjured it.” Hermione said casually with a wave of her hand.</p><p>That led to three hours of explaining just how powerful the wand left behind by Regulus’ really was.</p><p>—</p><p>A week went by with no excitement.</p><p>March was beginning to end and was starting to sweep into April with warm showers mixed with cold London winds.</p><p>Hermione hadn’t left the Safe-House in what seemed like years. Theo and Pansy left three times, returning with injuries due to the Dark Lord’s disappointment in their no-end search for Draco, only one time did they return with some sort of happiness, the day Theo had a pink lip-stick stain on his cheek from who Hermione assumed to be from the younger Slytherin, Grace.</p><p>Luna left almost daily. Her father had taken refuge in a cottage in Somerset after the Snatchers destroyed the Chess-Nook home during their rampage. Draco left one <em>with</em> Luna, to remove the trace, much to Hermione’s worry. After all, it was Xenophilius who had gotten them into the mess at the Manor in the first place. Draco returned that day with a black eye and a long extensive letter that was a formal apology to both Draco and Hermione for getting them kidnapped.</p><p>Unlike Draco, Hermione forgave easily. She knew that a father would do anything for his child, especially after losing his only other family member.</p><p>The letter only reminded Hermione that she had yet to receive a reply from Ginny, despite Molack returning home the day before now.</p><p>Maybe Ginny <em>had</em> left Hogwarts.</p><p>It made her worry, as she hated the thought of Ginny being exposed to danger. Wherever the Order was, so was Danger.</p><p>Since Molack’s return at dawn the day before, Draco had been rather quiet and isolated. He sat in the Drawing room reading a book he had taken from the attic, one Hermione still couldn’t bring herself to study, and hardly as much <em>touched </em>Hermione. The only time he did so was then they were sleeping, when he pulled Hermione so close to his chest she couldn’t inhale anything other than the smell of his clean skin.</p><p>He held her like he was scared she would leave and disappear.</p><p>“So, Granger, what are your plans for life?” Theo said that afternoon as they all sat around the fire in the Drawing room. “After Hogwarts, <em>and</em> after The Dark Lord’s ass gets beat?”</p><p>Hermione pursed her lips, trying to ignore the expectant expressions from the others in the room. Luna was curled up by the fire on the floor staring over at her with wide eyes. Pansy was on the far side of the room, with a glum expression. She had been avoiding Luna’s eye, and Hermione wondered if they had experienced some sort of disagreement, but decided to not ask.</p><p>Draco was on the same sofa as Hermione, but keeping some distance. He was playing with the hem of his black jumper, staring down at his fingers.</p><p>“I’m really not sure, I always excelled in Ancient Runes, but I don’t see myself carrying that forth into the future. Maybe I’d work with books.” She shrugged, trying to not overthink the statement.</p><p>“Pfft, <em>books? </em>Draco, do you really want Hermione to be a librarian?” Theo said, half-joking, but Draco didn’t laugh.</p><p>“Why should I care what she does in the future?” He scoffed, a sneer crossing his features as he looked across at Theo. “It’s not like I’m her fucking <em>boyfriend</em> or anything, why should I give a fuck?”</p><p>Hermione felt like she had been punched in the gut.</p><p>It wasn’t that she had viewed Draco as her <em>boyfriend</em>, it was the fact he had been so quick to dismiss her with a wave of her hand. Just a few weeks ago, he had stood in the kitchen of the Southwark safehouse begging her not to leave him. Just a week ago, he was comforting her in the bedroom upstairs telling her that he’ll always be there to help her.</p><p>He kissed her. He touched her in ways friends don’t touch.</p><p>What had happened for him to be so dismissive? Hermione took a quick look at him and saw something flash behind his eye, something sad and pitiful and weak. Something like fear.</p><p>She swallowed her bile and tried to deflect the conversation. “What about you, Pansy?”</p><p>“I’m rather good at potions, as you can probably remember,” She said with a smirk, “Maybe I’ll go into potion making, I’ve been practicing—”</p><p>“I want to be a painter.” Luna interjected with a soft voice, “You know, I’d love to paint wizarding portraits that can speak to you even after their real-life form passes away.”</p><p>As Hermione opened her mouth to reply, Draco huffed and pulled himself from the sofa, storming out of the room and thundering up the stairs.</p><p>It fell silent in the room once more.</p><p>“Is he okay?” Luna asked with a delicate voice, warming her hands on the fire. “He seems rather annoyed about something.”</p><p>“I’ll go and check on the prat.” Theo sighed, going to stand up from his spot on the sofa by Pansy, but she gripped his arm and pulled him back down so roughly the sofa exhaled small clouds of dust.</p><p>“Hermione should go,” Pansy said, looking at Theo with a pointed expression. “You really should read the room sometimes, Theo, he looked at Hermione with a glare and stormed out! That <em>clearly </em>means he wants <em>her</em> to follow him!”</p><p>“You girls are mad—“ Theo started, but his mouth clamped shut as Pansy swatted his arm with a dusty green cushion.</p><p>Hermione stood and scrambled out of the room, her chest hurting. She had tried to accept that Draco was a yo-yo. She really had. But it was becoming mournfully annoying and somewhat sour.</p><p>She didn’t <em>need</em> him to call himself her boyfriend. Because they <em>weren’t</em> boyfriend and girlfriend, were they? They were simply two anxious people seeking solace and affection from each other as a bitter way to remain sane—she just wished he hadn’t acted as if she was the most putrid person simply because he was scared of looking infatuated in front of his friends. At least that’s what she assumed he was doing.</p><p>Draco was not in their bedroom, so she descended further up the stairs. He was not in the room that was previously occupied by Harry or Ron, either—which had become coined as the room with 'the breathing portrait with no occupant.'</p><p>Yet, ten minutes later, she found him sitting in one of the rooms on the fourth floor.</p><p>She hadn’t been inside of this room since they arrived back at Grimmauld Place following her torture at the Manor, it didn’t seem occupied when she had crossed the outside door, but it was in fact occupied.</p><p>Standing on the left side of the almost empty room was a large beaten easel, covered in old flakes of paint and pencil markings. Sitting on the floor beside it was over twenty large pots of paint, with no lids on, all glimmering beneath the sun echoing through the large open window behind Draco’s back, casting a rainbow shadow through his white hair.</p><p>On the easel was a canvas, with a half-painted portrait of a beautiful woman with dark skin and curly hair, her mouth hung open in a bright smile. Pandora Lovegood.</p><p>It was Luna’s painting room, which made her confession of wanting to draw portraits much more visual in Hermione’s mind.</p><p>Draco noticed her enter and rolled his eyes, swiftly turning away to glare out of the window that overlooked hundreds of brick terrace houses.</p><p>“Just fuck off for once, Granger.” He spoke, his voice full of fake anger. It was simply anger hiding his fear and she knew that. By now, she could read his emotions like a book.</p><p>“You’re not my boyfriend,” Hermione said bluntly. “And I never implied it. So stop acting childish and come back downstairs. We all want your presence around so stop acting—“</p><p>“Can’t you give me some space?” He snapped, spinning on his heels and crossing the gap between them.</p><p>He slammed her against the wall so hard she gasped. His hand wrapped around the base of her neck and squeezed it, his thumb pressing against her throat in a way that made her legs tremble.</p><p>“Salazar, why do I always want what I can’t fucking have?” He mumbled under his breath so that Hermione couldn’t really hear him.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>He pressed her deeper against the wall by her neck before hissing and dropping his hand.</p><p>“We will never be <em>anything, </em>Hermione.” He said, his voice dripping with some sort of sadness. “And we both know why. So leave me alone, and let me process that.”</p><p>—</p><p>Some hours later, Hermione woke from a nap and headed downstairs. It seemed as if everybody was either sleeping or hiding out in their rooms for some privacy.</p><p>Draco had not emerged from the painting room that was now more than likely lit with the moonlight flooding through the large window. Yet, this time, Hermione couldn’t find it in her to care.</p><p>Maybe she was just exhausted of his pillar to post attitude and the way he was <em>trying</em> so hard to act as if he doesn’t deserve to be cared about.</p><p>Either way, she wouldn’t think about it for the rest of the night. At least not until Draco emerged and apologised, or forgot about the silly argument altogether.</p><p>The only sounds filling her ears as she headed towards the Drawing room was the faint sound of the portraits hissing at her and the wind howling through the cracks in the windows.</p><p>She met Kreacher on her descent, who was attempting poorly to scrub the base of Ursula Black’s portrait, who gagged at Hermione as she whispered a small greeting to Kreacher who simply ignored her.</p><p>When she walked away, she heard the house-elf muttering to the portrait above his head <em>“Miss, no worries, I won’t speak to filthy Mudbloods like that!”</em></p><p>Once again, the feeling of isolation fell through Hermione's veins as she passed the elf-heads above the entrance to the Drawing room. Strangely, she found herself craving the whine of George’s voice and the sound of Harry and Ron's bickering.</p><p>She felt as if Grimmauld Place wasn't built to be desolate, yet here it was in all its glory, fulfully empty.</p><p>But yet to Hermione’s surprise, the Drawing room was not devoid, because sitting in her green nightgown, was Pansy.</p><p>Pansy was sitting on top of the Grand piano, one hand occupied by a cigarette and one hand occupied by a large glass of what Hermione assumed to be pink-gin, disguised in a water bottle by her left thigh.</p><p>Hermione’s eyes raked her body for one short moment, taking in the bare skin that rose high on her thigh, and Hermione studied the tattoo above her left knee. A black bat, with beady red eyes.</p><p>“Hermione,” Pansy said gloomily as Hermione closed the door behind her. She nodded a head towards Hermione at a small incline. The air instantly grew tense around them like always. “I wasn’t aware you were still awake.”</p><p>Hermione only hummed as Pansy brought the gin to her lips and took a large sip, sighing heavily afterwards and taking a large drag from her cigarette, the smoke trailing from her mouth the same way it trails from a Dragon's.</p><p>“Are you okay, Pansy?” Hermione asked, raising a brow at the way Pansy’s face seemed solemn. “You seem sad.”</p><p>Pansy raised a hand extravagantly, causing the contents of her drink to spill on the floor. “Worried! Worried! No, of course not Granger! What’s there to be worried about!”</p><p>She was tipsy.</p><p>Pansy narrowed her eyes at Hermione who was lingering by the door slightly awkwardly, wondering whether it was best to turn around and head upstairs or attempt to speak with the Slytherin once more.</p><p>“You don’t like me,” Pansy said with a sigh. “Why don’t you like me?”</p><p>Hermione tilted her head. “I do—“</p><p>“I try so hard to be likeable. I’m trying so hard to get to know you, but it feels as if there’s some wall between us I can’t break through.” Pansy huffed. “Drink with me, Granger, maybe alcohol is what we need to sort this out.”</p><p>For a moment, Hermione wondered if Pansy had siren blood. Because she was drawn towards her like she was a drug, and she was climbing on top of the piano next to her without any further asking. Though Hermione knew Pansy did not have Siren blood, she just wanted to rid the awkward air as much as she did.</p><p>“Are you sure you are okay?” Hermione asked again.</p><p>Pansy put her own glass into Hermione’s hand and picked up the bottle beside her thigh, unscrewing the lid with her teeth before taking three big sips. Hermione took a sip as well, feeling slightly thankful she had something to take the edge off.</p><p>“I had a fight with Luna and Theo.” She sighed, once again letting the smoke swirl around her face. “Why am I never good enough for anybody?”</p><p>Hermione took another big sip and paused.</p><p>“What do you mean?” She asked. “Have you seen yourself? You’re like an embodiment of a raven, sleek and beautiful with a twinge of mystery.”</p><p>Pansy smirked ever so slightly. “I’m not good enough for—It doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“Do you realise, everybody wanted to <em>be </em>you or be <em>with</em> you, back at Hogwarts?” Hermione asked, feeling the tense air around them already dissolving.</p><p>“They didn’t,” Pansy said, shaking her head. “They were just jealous because they all thought I was fucking Blaise Zabini or Draco Malfoy!”</p><p>With another extravagant wave of her hands, she laughed ever so slightly.</p><p>“And were you not?” Hermione was careful in her word choice, not wanting to sound too nosey.</p><p>Deep down, she was very nosey at this subject matter. Pansy Parkinson was always a loose cannon in her mind, one day she’d be strolling the halls arm in arm with Theo, the next day she’d be stroking Draco’s hair on the Hogwarts express.</p><p>Pansy let out some sort of squeal and shook her head, once again sending the contents over her drink onto the floor.</p><p>“I thought you were the brightest witch of our age, Miss Hermione Granger?” Pansy asked, turning to look at her. “Don’t you know I wouldn’t let Draco <em>or</em> Blaise <em>or </em>Theo within a four-foot radius of my cherry-cavern?”</p><p>“You’re what—“</p><p>“I’m <em>gay!</em>” Pansy said, laughing for what Hermione thought was the first time since she arrived here. A <em>real</em> laugh, anyway. “Merlin, Hermione, I thought you would’ve caught on.”</p><p>Something shifted in the air then, like a butterfly shedding its wings. Pansy stared over at Hermione through her thick eyelashes and pursed her lips together as if she was considering something.</p><p>Hermione simply stared back, feeling a sinking relief in her stomach as she could feel the tense relationship between them starting to crumble.</p><p>Hermione felt for the first time in a while, she had a friend she could trust again.</p><p>“You are very beautiful, Hermione,” Pansy said, tilting her head, letting the moonlight that was reflecting from the piano beneath them pool onto her pale skin. “I’m sorry for ever calling you ugly. I think I was just jealous.”</p><p>“I don’t care about the silly stuff that happened at Hogwarts anymore, Pansy.” Hermione replied truthfully.</p><p>Hermione tried to not gasp when she saw Pansy discard her cigarette and replace it with Hemione’s thigh.</p><p>“I'm trying so hard to understand you.” Pansy gulped, edging closer towards Hermione on the piano. “I swear I’m trying. We just have such a horrid past that—“</p><p>“I know. I know you’re trying.” Hermione said, her chest tightening as Pansy’s hand moved higher up her thigh, tugging ever so slightly at the waistband of the loose skirt Hermione was wearing.</p><p>“Would you find it weird if I kissed you right now? As...as a friend of course.” Pansy said, but she was already sliding across the piano and dropping her drink from her other hand to let it slide up Hermione’s torso. “Would you find it weird if I showed you how well girls can kiss?”</p><p>“I—“</p><p>“If you don’t want to, we won’t,” Pansy said, her hand continuing to slide up until it cupped the base of Hermione’s left breast. “But, there's this tension between us—it won’t mean <em>anything</em>—I just—“</p><p>“Pansy.” Hermione interrupted. “I wouldn’t find it weird.”</p><p>Because truthfully. She wouldn’t. Why should she? Pansy was a friend, someone she knew she could now trust. And Draco had just made it very fucking clear he didn’t want to be her boyfriend, so why should she find it weird?</p><p>What was weird about kissing a friend when you're tipsy. <em>Nothing</em>, right?</p><p>“Good, because right now—“ Pansy’s hand tugged at Hermione's hair on the side of her face. “You are really fucking enticing.”</p><p>Before Hermione could respond, Pansy was kissing her.</p><p>Before Hermione could comprehend that Pansy was kissing her, Pansy was pushing her so her back fell against the cold piano, her tongue falling inside of her mouth.</p><p>Dear God was Pansy a good kisser.</p><p>Hermione couldn’t help but whimper as she felt Pansy slotting between her legs, her hand continuing to tug at Hermione’s hair in an attempt to draw her even closer, which wasn’t possible. Her other hand that wasn’t filtering through her curls fell against the piano, holding her upright she could drawback and stare down at Hermione with wide, slightly terrified, yet elective eyes.</p><p>“You are fucking hot,” Pansy said, her lips already swollen from just a few minutes of wrecking Hermione’s mouth. “God—“</p><p>Hermione cut her short by cupping the back of her hand and pulling her lips back down on her, taking in the way every inch of her own body relaxed, sending all of her anxiety and fretting feelings out of the window.</p><p>She had nothing to worry about at this moment. Not Draco or Ginny or Harry or Bellatrix. She couldn’t think about the War of the Dark Mark that was currently sitting beside her head on Pansy’s arm.</p><p>All she could think about was how fucking fun this was, kissing someone without it meaning a fucking thing.</p><p>“Can I please—“ Pansy drew back, breathing into her mouth. “Can I—“</p><p>“Yes.” Hermione said without even knowing what she was going to say, because right now, with the gin swimming in her veins and her head so light and happy with the feeling of arousal, she’d let Pansy do anything to her and she’d simply say thank you.</p><p>Pansy kissed her <em>again, </em>her tongue finding her own and lapping her up like she was a drug as her hand dropped from her hair and swam against her torso, stopping at the base of her skirt, her fingers stumbling beneath it and pressing hard against her clit through the material of her underwear.</p><p>It was evident Pansy <em>knew </em>what she was doing. It was more than clear that Pansy <em>knew </em>how to touch a girl and how much she enjoyed it, because she was breathing fire into Hermione’s mouth and smirking against her lips.</p><p>“I think after this,” Pansy breathed into her mouth, Hermione drank up the taste of Gin and Smoke. “The only tension between us will be sexual.”</p><p>Hermione mused at her, gasping as Pansy slid her mouth against her jaw and began kissing her neck at the same time rubbing her clit through her underwear, smirking against her skin.</p><p>“You're wet.” Pansy said proudly, sucking at her collarbone. “Are you sure you’re straight?”</p><p>“Maybe I swing both ways.” Hermione whimpered as Pansy pushed aside her underwear and sunk her fingers inside of her core, “Fuck—“</p><p>“I have longer fingers than Draco,” Pansy said, nipping her shoulder. “Jesus fuck you’re so wet, I bet you taste so...so...fuck."</p><p>Pansy was not insulting her. She wasn’t calling her fifty and putrid and crude, the way Draco did. And although she fucking <em>adored</em> when Draco treated her like a whore, it was a nice change to have someone treat her as if she was a Goddess.</p><p>Even if it would never equate to anything, even if this was just a one time, fun thing, it was nice.</p><p>Pansy curled her fingers inside of her and smirked as Hermione whimpered, before she pulled them out and dropped down her body, her knees landing on the edge of the piano and pushing up Hermione’s skirt.</p><p>“Can I?”</p><p>“Do anything—please—“</p><p>She looked down as Pansy pulled down her underwear and threw them to the side, her slender hands cupping her thighs and manoeuvring one leg over her shoulder.</p><p>From the second Pansy pressed her lips against her clit, she was putty. She sank into the piano, not even caring that her spine was digging into the cold resin, and let her hands instantly grasp a handful of raven black hair.</p><p>“God Pansy—“ Hermione moaned, tugging at Pansy’s hair as the other Witch sank her tongue deep inside of her and lapped up her juices, before pressing her lips back to her clit.</p><p>Pansy moaned against her with a drunken smirk and then sank two fingers deep inside of her where her tongue had just been.</p><p>Hermione had to refrain from screaming out as she felt two slender fingers curling inside of her.</p><p>Her eyes rolled back in her head, but in doing so, she noticed a shadowed frame shouldering the doorway to the Drawing room.</p><p>At that moment, Hermione thought she might pass out.</p><p>Because she could see Draco smirking from where he was stood, his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed like he was half angry at what he was seeing and half adorned by.</p><p>Hermione went to tell Pansy to stop, feeling slightly woeful that she had been caught with someone’s fingers so deep inside of her that she was withering, but Draco spoke first.</p><p>“Oh, no, don’t stop on my account.” Draco spoke, his words drifting through the air and sticking to Hermione’s skin.</p><p>Strangely, it turned her on even more, watching Draco <em>watch</em> her. She felt some sort of power, some sort of sexiness and freedom and lust from the way his eyes twinkled in the moonlight and how his shoulders tensed every time she moaned.</p><p>Apparently Pansy felt the same way too, shooting one look in Draco’s direction and quickening the pace of her fingers, curling them and uncurling them in a perfect synchronisation to her tongue flicking against her clit, enough to make her come in seconds.</p><p>As she was about to let go, she saw Draco stalking over to the piano, an angry smirk stuck to his features and he glanced over Pansy between her legs before slowly walking to the head of the piano, where Hermione was laying slack against it, her back arching.</p><p>“So you’re a slut like I thought, hm?” Draco mused, leaning down on his elbows beside her head, so close his breath ghosted her lips. “Are you gonna come like a slut too?”</p><p>He asked, sneaking a hand around her neck and squeezing her throat so hard that she couldn’t breathe, in the best way.</p><p>“Come, like a whore then, go on.” He dragged the syllables of the words out, his lips inching so close to hers that all she could see was the constellations in his eyes and all she could feel was someone else, <em>Pansy</em>, licking her clit.</p><p>It was beautifully overwhelming.</p><p>As she began to come, a moan suppressing her lips, Draco kissed her, catching her whimper with his mouth and swallowing it with the biggest look of defiance on his face.</p><p>As Pansy fucked out her orgasm with her fingers, Draco stood, an unreadable expression coasting his face. His hand was still locked tight around her throat, he drew his hand upwards, lifting her head from the piano for a split second before dropping her back against it with a thud.</p><p>“See you upstairs, Granger.” He said, turning on his heels and disappearing.</p><p>—</p><p>A few hours later, Hermione and Pansy sat by the fire, drinking tea and laughing about what had just happened.</p><p>“I think I love Luna,” Pansy said suddenly after a few moments of silence.</p><p>Hermione paused, feeling slightly dishevelled. For a moment, she was rather confused. If Pansy was in <em>love </em>with Luna why had they—</p><p>“Don’t feel bad about what we just did!” Pansy interjected her thoughts. “It’s just—“</p><p>“Pansy,” Hermione said, looking up at her with a smile, trying to reassure that it was <em>okay. </em>“If you need to vent, just vent.”</p><p>Pansy took a deep inhale of breath and put her mug on the rug.</p><p>“I never thought I’d fall in love with someone like <em>Luna</em> Lovegood.” She started, a sad expression taking over her features. “But then in sixth year, she sort of like, blossomed. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, she danced through the halls like she was a fairy, like she didn’t give a flying fuck what people thought of her and it was so addictive,"</p><p>Pansy paused again, took a sip of tea and continued.</p><p>“I think that’s why she attracted me so much. I care too <em>much</em> about what people think of me. I’m always trying to impress people and have attention whereas she is just <em>her</em> and her only. But it hurt because <em>she</em> never cared about me. I don’t think she even noticed I existed. She just walked around in her own bubble, not sparing a look in my direction. That’s why I put that stupid vial of love potion on your desk because she obviously wasn’t in my classes—“</p><p>“Oh god, <em>that’s </em>why you did that? I thought you were trying to poison me!”</p><p>“If you had read the letter tied to the cork handle then you would’ve seen it was addressed to her, but you and your big lion brain were probably too stubborn to look.” Pansy laughed, shaking her head.</p><p>“I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” Hermione said softly, her heart faltering when she spotted a tear running down Pansy’s cheek. “There’s something there.”</p><p>“That's the thing, is there?” Pansy asked, rhetorical. “Because we cuddle and flirt and talk about the future but sometimes I think she sees it as a <em>friendly </em>thing. Like she doesn’t take it seriously and god it hurts because all I want is to kiss her until I can’t fucking breath but she doesn’t notice.”</p><p>Pansy paused once more, her lips twitching.</p><p>“She doesn’t notice because she’s in her own world, we <em>all</em> know <em>that</em>, but it’s a world I want to be part of too. “ </p><p>Pansy sighed and continued. “A world where I don’t have to care, where I can love somebody and not care about it. Where I can run in the fields and pick flowers and help her feed her stupid Aquavirus Maggots and ride Thestrals until we die—I just want to have someone and not care about anything.”</p><p>Hermione reached out and squeezed her hand, allowing the Slytherin to just cry and cry until she couldn’t breath.</p><p>Because in the end, everybody needs <em>someone</em>.</p><p>And that’s all it took for Hermione to realise that even if he doesn’t see it, even if he doesn’t understand, Draco needs her. </p>
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<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Thirty.</h2></a>
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    <span class="u">I am estimating around 10 more chapters for this fanfic. As you may be able to tell, I've been including much more in each chapter, nearly doubling the number of words. Don't worry, though!</span>
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    <span class="u">I have my next dramione fanfiction already planned out and I already am so passionate for it, so don't forget to follow my wattpad and tiktok to know when it is posted.</span>
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    <span class="u">Thank you for 50k reads on wattpad. I love you.</span>
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</p><p>Maybe all Draco needed was a little bit of space.</p><p>Hermione knew that there was <em>something</em> bothering him from the moment he dismissed her in the Drawing room and told her to leave him alone in the art room on the fourth floor.</p><p>It wasn't a surprise that <em>something</em> was bothering him. Hermione had gotten used to the fact he <em>always</em> had something bothering him. Like she thought yesterday, it was becoming slightly exhausting.</p><p>She already had enough to deal with, let alone having to deal with Draco's caustic mood swings. It was like she had to constantly tread on the edge when she was around him, wondering whether he was going to explode at any wrong word.</p><p>But then again, Hermione had to consider that she wasn't the <em>only</em> person struggling. She had to remember that he too, was going through so much turmoil that <em>he</em> was anxious, that <em>he </em>was sad and lonely and confused.</p><p>He had run away from death because his mother was killed. He still had no clue why or how his mother was killed.</p><p>She had to remember that he too would be scared.</p><p>Hermione watched the daylight arise from behind the window of the Drawing Room. She felt the warmth of the sun on her skin, and she basked in the comfortable warmness as she thought over Draco's situation. For the first time in a while, she felt guilty for not letting him be heavy-hearted too. She felt guilty for always relying on <em>him </em>in her times of blue, but not ever asking how <em>he</em> was.</p><p>She pondered while watching the pigeons fondle at the edge of the window, chirping happily and basking in the morning sunlight. It was times like this Hermione was reminded of the bitter snow in which she left Hogwarts in. It was times like this that she remembered she couldn't even produce a successful warming charm back in the hotel or on the boat, because her soul had been linked to a wand made from a Horcrux without her knowledge.</p><p>It was times like this she forgot just how important she was going to be in the outcome of the war.</p><p>Her ablaze of thoughts fumbled away as the Drawing-room door creaked open and she watched Draco stumble in wearing his usual silk pyjamas.</p><p>"You didn't come to bed," He said, walking towards her and into the warmth. "Did you even sleep?"</p><p>Hermione sighed, watching the sunlight drip through his white hair like raindrops. He fell beside her on the floor, grimacing at the dusty rug beneath his body and slid a hand around her shoulder as he leant back against the ridge of the sofa behind them.</p><p>"A little. I was distracted." She said truthfully, a small shrug echoing from her shoulders. "Did you sleep?"</p><p>He huffed and fingered the hem of his pyjama shirt as he spoke, like he was apprehensive of the conversation they were about to have.</p><p>"I was distracted too." He replied, voice dancing on the edge of being awkward. "I—I felt guilty."</p><p>Hermione scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief.</p><p>"Don't you get whiplash?" She asked, glaring up at him with daggers in her eyes. "Aren't you tired of acting one way and then another?"</p><p>"Yes." Draco said simply, his eyes falling into her own before snapping to watch the birds frolicking behind the glass window like he was scared of melting into her stare.</p><p>"Then why do you <em>act</em> one way, then another?" Hermione asked, her voice much softer than she intended it to be, because she was angry and exhausted and she was tired of him not realising so.</p><p>"I'm scared, Hermione," Draco replied stiffly. "I'm scared because after the war, if I'm not dead, I'm going to be alone."</p><p>Her mouth fell open to retort but he carried on, casually playing with the curls at the base of her neck.</p><p>"You'll be hired in some fancy ministry job–I could see you becoming a healer because of that time you fixed my back, or maybe you'll become an apparition examiner, because we've been doing a lot of it. And you'll be reunited with all of your friends. And maybe you'll fall in love with an Auror, or a curse-breaker or someone annoying like a magical-book writer" He laughed sadly, looking down at his lap.</p><p>Something twanged in Hermione's chest at the way his voice wavered when he spoke about Hermione loving somebody else. Somebody that was not him.</p><p>It did not sound right. It did not sound correct. It sounded like a story, like a joke.</p><p>"And after the war, I'm not going to be hired by the Ministry. I'm not going to hired <em>anywhere</em>, because I'm branded with this stupid fucking mark. I'm going to be sent to Azkaban, or I'll be sent to another country where nobody will know my name." He paused. "And nobody will fall in love with me, because nobody will understand me or what I have been through. And I'll never fall for somebody–anybody–because they won't be you."</p><p>Hermione licked her bottom lip, thinking carefully about what to say. She could feel the fear in his voice and that scared her more than she wanted to admit.</p><p>"Is this what that sketch was about, Draco?" She asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "You think after all we've been through I would just pack up and leave you to whither into dust, all alone?"</p><p>"Don't be silly, Hermione. You have <em>so</em> many prospects in life. You're smart and funny and loved by so many people, anybody would lather you up and give you a job, anybody would fall in love with you because you're so—" He paused. "—You're so imperfectly perfect. You walk into a room and everything just blurs around you, like you're made of satin, and the world is made of ice."</p><p>He looked at her through his nose, seemingly trying to read the expression written on her features. And from what she was feeling, she'd be sure he was reading a look of trepidation, with her eyebrows high on her brow and her mouth slightly agape.</p><p>"I drew that sketch because in my dream <em>you</em> left <em>me</em> all alone. You went back to your little ginger friends and fell in love with some important respected man and I was left here all by myself." He continued. "And because—I'm sorry Hermione—"</p><p>He shuffled and dug his fingers into the pocket on his breast, pulling out a folded sheet of paper.</p><p>"—Molack brought a letter back for you. From Ginny, I think. I felt disheartened that you wrote to her, I just started thinking that—"</p><p>"You stole the letter and didn't tell me?" Hermione huffed, snatching it from his fingers and unfolding it. She wasn't angry, if anything she found the look of guilt on his face somewhat amusing, but she wasn't going to tell him that. "Don't do that again."</p><p>She was somewhat annoyed that he may have <em>read</em> the letter addressed to her, but she couldn't linger on it, because she was more so interested in what Ginny had to say.</p><p>
  <em>H</em>
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  <em>While it's great to hear from you, I can't help but wonder, what the fuck are you doing to be completely missing from the world? Are you in another country? Are you with someone you shouldn't be?</em>
</p><p>She shot Draco a glare as she felt him staring over her shoulder, and tried to not laugh sadly. What would Ginny say if she knew that she was completely cut off from the world because she was too busy being drawn to a wand made from a Horcrux and sleeping in the same bed as Draco Malfoy?</p><p>Shaking her head, she continued to read.</p><p><em>I trust you. I just miss you with all my heart. It's hard to say what I want to say in a letter when everything is so...monitored. Things at Hogwarts are extremely strange; sometimes I wish not to be here. I sent a bat-bogey</em> <em>hex at one of the Carrows and had their sibling hit me with a crucio (it hurts like a bitch, btw).</em></p><p>Hermione grimaced, remembering the sheer agony that she was victim to at the Manor, and felt her heart twang at the image of Ginny being the victim to such pain.</p><p>
  <em>I saw the article in the Prophet regarding your disappearance. I want to make one thing clear—Skeeter is listening around, we didn't rat you out or speak to her, but I'm sure that you know that. Regarding your question regarding our friends, their task, which I have heard you are aware of, is going well. But let me just say this: they are found but not destroyed.</em>
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  <em>That's what they are struggling with. I cannot say much else other than, stay safe. I beg you, please come back to us soon.</em>
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  <em>War is coming–Your carrot-head friend, G.</em>
</p><p>Hermione took a glance at Draco as she folded the parchment in her fingers, and let it fall against her lap.</p><p>Draco had been so frigid because he thought after this letter, Hermione would pack her bags and run back to Ginny.</p><p>Deep down, she hoped he knew her well enough to know that would never be the case. Not only was anxiety still settling into her bones, but she also had much to figure out about <em>her </em>own life.</p><p>"Draco," Hermione spoke, monotone. "I would have thought after all this time, you would know I'm not ever going anywhere without you."</p><p>Hermione reached for his hand, interlinking their fingers.</p><p>"There will be a time where I have to leave, where I have to join Ginny and Ron and everyone else. We both know that, don't we?" She asked him, he nodded slowly. "But, I think now, after all these months of meeting up with you at that blasted hotel and trying to act as if I was going to run away from you at any second, I'm not going <em>anywhere </em>without you by my side. Now, and when the war hits, and when it's over."</p><p>Draco looked at her with seriousness falling over his face, his fingers slowly rotating inside of her own like they were two hands on the same clock.</p><p>"And if I'm taken to Azkaban because of the fact I bare the mark?" He asked, "And if we lose the war and Voldemort kills me? Then what will you do?"</p><p>Hermione glanced down at her wand that was sitting by the fireplace, gleaming and shimmering beneath the light from the flames echoing into the locket.</p><p>Her lips twerked up at the sides.</p><p>"He'd have to get through me, first." She said, feeling relief that the air between them was relaxing and she saw him let out a small laugh.</p><p>"Don't leave me," He said, staring at her. "Ever."</p><p>She nodded, bringing his hand up to her lips and kissing his fingers, sighing into the warmth of his skin.</p><p>"If I didn't meet you at that stupid fucking hotel, Draco—" She kissed his fingers again. "—I'd be insane, I'd be—well, let's not think about what would have happened. All that matters is that I'm here with you and I'm going to <em>fight </em>this war with <em>you!"</em></p><p>"Hermione?" Draco said, smirking ever so slightly. "Thanks for running away. Because it means that you're here with me."</p><p>She snorted and leant forwards to kiss him on the lips, letting her tongue delve between his lips before pulling back and breathing into his mouth.</p><p>Hermione gripped his other hand, bringing it up to her waistline. She paused upon feeling cold metal sinking into her hip from his fingers. She pulled his hand back, peering at it. She saw it now bore the silver ring, which was engraved with a pit-viper snake, the Black family mascot. The same ring he had given Kreacher in a bid for the letters he possessed.</p><p>"Draco!" Hermione gasped, swatting his arm. "You didn't <em>actually </em>cut his finger off? Tell me you didn't!"</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes and let out a snort. He slid the ring from his finger and pressed the cool metal to her neck. She hissed, as it felt like it had momentarily burnt her skin, and he delved down to kiss her throat.</p><p>"If you—" He sucked the spot where he had just danced over her skin with the ring. "—Think I would waste my time—" He sucked against the nape of her throat, "—Cutting off a wrinkly elves finger—" He sucked the underside of her jaw. "—You would be mistaken."</p><p>Hermione tried not to whimper as he slid the ring back on his finger whilst he kissed her throat with so much vigour she knew that he was leaving heart-shaped purple bruises on her soft skin.</p><p>"Then—then how did you—" She was cut off by his fingers sliding beneath her pyjama shirt, pulling it at the edges as if he was desperate to slip it off. "—I'm sure Kreacher wouldn't have given it to you willingly, w—fuck—would he?"</p><p>Draco's teeth sank into the flesh above her collarbone, sending a shudder down the brink of Hermione's spine, then adjusted to speak against the base of her ear.</p><p>"Oh you know, I just threatened to slice Walburga's face out of her canvas if he didn't give it to me," The smell of the cigarettes Draco smoked wafted into Hermione's senses, causing her to become strangely aroused by the scent. "I think that made him more than quick to pass it over to me."</p><p>One of his hands wrapped around her throat as he kissed her, his tongue diving through the seal of her lips, pressing against the roof of her mouth.</p><p>"You're so beautiful..." He breathed into her mouth, his free hand drawing up her stomach and squeezing the skin just below her left breast. "Like—so fucking beautiful—so hot—"</p><p>Hermione's eyes widened as she could feel the growing arousal between her legs, drawing her closer and closer into Draco's body until they were simply one piece of the same puzzle.</p><p>She didn't want to panic, but she did.</p><p>She knew where this would lead. And although she wanted <em>nothing</em> more than to feel him sinking into her, she wasn't about to lose her virginity on the dusty Drawing-room rug.</p><p>"No time to be soft, Draco," She said, remembering Ginny's letter and trying to not let herself get distracted by the taste of Draco's mouth. "We've got some research to do."</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione paced around the attic, collecting dust on her bare feet in her wake.</p><p>Draco was sitting in the far corner, perched up onto the large table that was covered in dirty black cloth which hung down and ghosted the floorboards.</p><p>His head was buried into a book, so close his nose was almost touching the pages. He complained that he could '<em>Practically small the dark magic radiating from the seams</em>' in his usual, sarcastic tone of voice and his face was ridden with its usual sneer.</p><p>"Why are <em>we</em> researching this, may I ask?" Draco huffed, flipping the pages so roughly Hermione feared they would tear from the seams. "It's not <em>our</em> job to find out how your stupid little friends can destroy the Horcruxes, is it?"</p><p>The hours crawled by, and Hermione felt like she was getting positively nowhere. Draco had dropped his book on <span class="u"><b>'THE ART OF SOUL SPLITTING</b>'</span> onto the floor and tucked a foot beneath his bottom, a look of annoyed sleepiness crossing his features.</p><p>Hermione pressed on, dropping the book based on something that seemed somewhat irrelevant and picked up another from the bookshelf.</p><p>However, when she opened it, it was not a printed book at all. The brown pages of parchment contained pages and pages of scribbled writing, with multiple lines crossed through and multiple corrections paired alongside them. It was bound to the hard-back cover with thread and tied so the pages would not fall out.</p><p>Her eyes crawled the pages, ignoring Draco's protests of being bored, and desperately clung to the hope of finding something somewhat relevant. So far, the book spoke mostly about soul splitting, which was a common theme in all of the books that Regulus' possessed, and a few pages drew along the idea of objects to create the Horcruxes, which was nothing Hermione hadn't already learned. Harry had told her everything Dumbledore had elected to tell <em>him</em> about Voldemort's Horcruxes all those years ago in his office.</p><p>And then, like a stark of light in the darkness, her eyes fell against something that made her stomach shrivel.</p><p>"Draco! <em>Draco</em>!" Hermione hissed from her spot on the floor, catching his tired expression and making his eyes fling open like he had been awoken. "I think I've found something useful."</p><p>He rolled his eyes playfully and waved a hand in the air as he spoke. "Yes, go on my dear Gryffindor, tell me what you have discovered."</p><p>She glared at him and pulled the book up to her nose, using her finger to follow the words, as the writing was rather messy and began to read out loud:</p><p>"Basilisk venom is an extreme magical creature substance and can kill a person within a little more than a minute at most. If inhaled or drunk, the victim will become drowsy and encompass blurry-vision and start to experience insanity before they die." She said, eyes frowning.</p><p>"And Basilisk Fang is the core of your wand, is it not?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow like he was suddenly somewhat interested. "I can't help but feel as if that's...suspicious."</p><p>Hermione nodded and flicked the page.</p><p>The following page was titled <b><span class="u">DESTROYING THE HORCRUXES—RESEARCH.</span></b></p><p>She continued to squint at the page and read the writing out loud:</p><p>"The venom's potency is apparently extremely long-lasting, the venom from a Basilisk can continue to last for over multiple centuries, which is what makes it so dangerous." She took a deep breath and continued reading the scribbled research on the page. "It may be possible that the power of Basilisk venom could help break down the alchemy of an item that has been inhaled with Dark Magic."</p><p>Draco took a deep breath like he was confounded with the research being read to him. Hermione took a small glance at his face and saw his lips were twerking up at the sides, staring down at her with admiration in her eyes.</p><p>"It makes sense..." Hermione said, pursing her lips and placing the book on her lap. "Basilisk venom <em>is</em> one of the few poisons that are not curable by Bezoars, and the other book on soul splitting says that anything that cannot be cured by Bezoars is extremely dangerous and could work against dark rooted types of magic, magic that could destroy almost anything to wanted it to."</p><p>Draco quirked an eyebrow. "You really are fucking smart, did you know?"</p><p>"I'm aware." Hermione shrugged, smiling up at him and winking sarcastically.</p><p>"From what I remember from Snape's lessons on that stupid potion that nearly blew my eyebrows off, It only has one known antidote—phoenix tears, which happens to be very rare, increasing the venom's deadliness, right?" Draco added, tapping his chin.</p><p>"Well, yes, I think you are right." Hermione nodded, her heart smelling with attraction at the level of education dripping from Draco's senses.</p><p>Sometimes she almost forgot he was her only rival in Potions class, as he had quite the knack for it.</p><p>"Wait—<em>Yes</em>! You're totally right Draco!" Hermione gawked, remembering something so vividly in her mind that Draco's face became a blur. "In the Chamber of Secrets, Harry was bitten by the Basilisk, he said it hurt so much he thought he was going to die right then and there on the floor but—Fawkes came in and dropped a tear onto Harry's arm, which healed him!"</p><p>Draco scoffed. "Ah, second year, didn't Harry accuse <em>me</em> of opening that blasted Chamber? Went around squeaking that <em>I</em> was the heir of Slytherin, but trust me, if I had Salazar's blood <em>I would </em>be the one squeaking it down the hall—"</p><p>"Wait Draco—Shut up!" Hermione pressed her fingers into her temples. "Oh my god! Wait—Merlin—Oh my!"</p><p>She jumped to her feet, spinning in a circle with her hands in the air, almost parallel to her actions when Krum had danced with her at the Yule ball.</p><p>"Are you going to announce what you've discovered or just continue to spin around like your fourteen?" Draco asked, trying to sound annoyed, but the pink hue on his cheeks detested that. "You're so strange sometimes, Mione."</p><p>"Listen, right." Hermione stood very still all of a sudden, glancing at him where he was sat on the table, his leg still tucked beneath him, his silk pyjamas reflecting the haut of the sun seeping in through the window on the slanted ceiling.</p><p>"Harry stabbed and killed the Basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor. The Sword of Gryffindor is Goblin Made—Goblin silver inhales only substances which can strengthen it, which can then be used against enemies. This means it only takes in what makes it <em>stronger</em>, such as Basilisk Venom!" She said, her voice becoming higher and higher with the newfound realisation.</p><p>Draco still looked perplexed and clicked his tongue. "I'm not completely following, if this is just a way to brag about Four eyes—"</p><p>"Listen, you swine!" Hermione snapped, her voice still full of childish excitement. "Dumbledore used Gryffindor's Sword, which had been imbued with the basilisk's venom three years before by Harry in the Chamber, and we have <em>just</em> learnt the venom can linger for hundreds of years, to destroy Marvolo Gaunt's Ring—which Harry confirmed was one of the Horcruxes that have already been destroyed!"</p><p>Draco paused like he was finally understanding.</p><p>"So that basically confirms that the research is correct, then?" He asked, his head tilting like a puppy. "And that Regulus' included basilisk fang as the core so that—"</p><p>"—The wand can <em>destroy</em> Horcruxes—" They both said at the same time.</p><p>Silence fell over them like a bitter, yet exciting revelation had been made.</p><p>"You are amazing, do you know that?" Draco said, eyes scanning Hermione's face as she bit back a smile that felt awfully strange. "Who would have thought, Hermione Granger, the annoying Gryffindor prefect, would hold the power to <em>destroy </em>something like a Horcrux?"</p><p>Hermione walked over to him and swatted his arm, trying to not let herself feel any sort of pride for his.</p><p>"One thing doesn't add up, though," Hermione said, frowning. "If the wand <em>contains </em>a Horcrux, the locket, how is the wand core made from Basilisk Fang—which contains Venom—the thing that can <em>destroy </em>a Horcrux, and still be functioning?"</p><p>Draco paused, reaching out and ghosting his fingers over her arms before pulling her onto the clothed table beside him.</p><p>The leg that was not tucked up beneath him instinctively wrapped around her own, latching onto her like she was made of precious stone as he replied.</p><p>"A fair point, but there must be a reason why Regulus' decided to pair the two together, shouldn't there? Maybe that's <em>why</em> it works as a means for destruction?" Draco spoke extravagantly, waving one hand in the air and into the fire-line of the sun beating through the window.</p><p>"Maybe so," Hermione pondered, "Regulus Black was <em>smart. </em>He took what The Dark Lord told him to protect, and when <em>he </em>failed to destroy it, he paired it with something in hopes that it would destroy the perpetrator, The Dark Lord."</p><p>"But if Regulus knew that Basilisk Fang could destroy the locket, why didn't he just do it himself in the first place? Why go through all that pain of creating a wand from the Horcrux and hunting down a Basilisk for its fang, rather than just doing it himself?"</p><p>It was silent for a moment as Hermione wracked her brain for an answer.</p><p>"He could not destroy it as <em>he</em> bore the Dark Mark." A soft, feminine voice rang through the silent room.</p><p>Hermione and Draco's heads both whipped around, only to find that the voice was coming from the Portrait of the Black Sisters that was still leaning against the wall beside the broken glass–It was Narcissa's portrait who had begun speaking.</p><p>"He tried and tried and tried. But it could not be done, as the Dark Mark tied him to the maker of the Horcrux itself." Narcissa continued.</p><p>Hermione felt Draco stiffen beside her, his face becoming crestfallen as he watched the portrait of his dead mother speaking to him. Hermione had no time to comfort him at that moment, as Narcissa continued to speak, so Hermione simply wrapped a hand around the back of his torso and rubbed her fingers against his hip bone beneath his silk shirt. He relaxed at her touch.</p><p>"When he brought all of his research to this attic, he spoke to us with so much rage and fury because he could not destroy it. He felt as if, after all of his efforts to find a way to destroy the locket, he had failed." The painting continued, Narcissa's young voice rather placid.</p><p>Hermione had to remind herself that the portrait was painted before Draco's existence, but even so, Narcissa's blue eyes continued to fall over <em>his</em> face rather than Hermione's.</p><p>"It was Andromeda, who suggested that the locket should be turned into something that could destroy the Dark Lord rather than help him with his task." She spoke on, her voice becoming gradually more distant.</p><p>The other sisters on the canvas continued to blink slowly as if they weren't even there. Yet, for a second, Hermione thought she saw one eye on Andromeda's face wink at her.</p><p>"The Dark trusted Regulus to keep his Horcrux safe, to keep it in one piece, yet Regulus did not <em>want</em> to keep it safe. He was unable to destroy it and took Andromeda's advice, then decided to use all his knowledge on Basilisk Fang and soul splitting, thus creating the wand."</p><p>Draco stared silently over at his young-mother, who spoke whilst gazing into his eyes that matched the icy exterior of her own.</p><p>"You two are smart, very, it was what Regulus was hoping for," Narcissa said. "I wish you luck."</p><p>And with that, the portrait fell silent once more.</p><p>
  
</p><p>—</p><p>"So, what you're saying is <em>that</em> wand could destroy <em>anyone</em> and <em>anything</em> you wanted it to?" Pansy asked, raising a brow at Hermione who sat twirling her wand in her fingers. "You're telling me it's more powerful than the <em>elder wand?"</em></p><p>Hermione scoffed at the expectant glances looking over at her from around the dining table. Theo had stopped chewing aggressively on his pie and Pansy was gazing at Hermione as if she were in a trance.</p><p>"I mean—I wouldn't go <em>that</em> far." Hermione shrugged, swallowing a chip. "From what I know of the elder wand, nothing has ever come close to its power."</p><p>"But you're a super-powerful witch, aren't you?" Theo added, his fork dangling in the air. "Pair you with a wand made of a fucking <em>Horcrux,</em> boom! Insanity."</p><p>Hermione hummed, trying not to blush at Theo's compliment. She glanced at him, grimacing at the bruise on his cheek from a lingering hex that had caught him on the face when he had told Voldemort a day prior that they still could not relocate Draco after his escape from Spinner's end.</p><p>"I mean<em>," </em>Hermione started. "I'm not <em>that</em> smart."</p><p>Pansy scoffed, rolling her eyes.</p><p>"Oh don't be modest, Granger." She stated, popping a grape into her heart-shaped mouth that was stained with dark brown lipstick. The only person who wore dark brown lipstick was Luna, but Hermione was yet to ask for details. "Weren't you able to produce a corporeal patronus in <em>fifth</em> year?"</p><p>Hermione blushed when she heard Draco snort from where he was lingering by the fridge, sketching absentmindedly into his book.</p><p>"Yes, actually, I could. But that's only because Harry helped me!" She raised her hands in fake surrender, feeling proud yet uncomfortable with all the attention. "Anyway—is it true that you guys <em>can't</em> produce a Patronus? Because you're Death-Eaters?"</p><p>"I am <em>not</em> a Death-Eater, thank you very much!" Theo scoffed again, plucking a grape from Pansy's plate and aiming it at Hermione's eye.</p><p>It hit her skin and then bounced behind her. Draco caught it and transfigured it into a brick with one swift flick of his wand, muttering he would not hesitate to throw it at Theo's face if he even tried to '<em>blind</em>' Hermione again.</p><p>"Well, sorry Theo but you have a Dark Mark on your forearm, so technically you <em>are</em> a Death-Eater, even if you are a fake one." Hermione retorted, glaring over her shoulder until Draco vanished the brick and joined her at the table. "From my research, the patronus charm cannot be cast by Death-Eaters since they are <em>dark</em> wizards, and the charm is a subject of pure wizardry."</p><p>Now she thought about it, she had never seen or heard of Draco casting a Patronus charm himself. Now she knew that, she was more than curious about what animal would take the form of his protector. Maybe it would be something ironic, like a snake, seeing as he was <em>oh</em> so proud about being placed into the Slytherin house. But, oh how she would <em>love </em>to see the look on his face if it was something soft and furry, like a bunny or a puppy, as he always tried to act the opposite of that.</p><p>Her thoughts trailed away as Theo spoke up. "Well, maybe because my form of Dark Wizardry is fake I can produce a Patronus. I only did it recently—"</p><p>"You can only produce a patronus because Grace finally sucked you off!" Pansy doubled over with laughter, looking over at Theo who was glaring at her, his cheeks ruby red, which only made her laugh more. "Go on Hermione, guess his patronus, go on."</p><p>"You can produce a patronus?" Draco quirked, looking over at Theo with some sort of jealousy ridden in his features. "That's...that's so cool."</p><p>"Not time to be soft, Draco, go on, guess his patronus! Oh, I love this game." Pansy beamed, clapping her hands together. "Then you can guess mine."</p><p>"Hmmm," Draco mused, leaning back on his chair and running a hand through his hair. "Something ugly no doubt, a wood mouse?"</p><p>Theo scowled and kicked Draco beneath the table, picking up his wand in holding it in Draco's direction. Theo's wand was actually rather beautiful; made from dark brown wood, covered in light auburn spikes, seemingly made from cherry wood. On the handle was a little round nook, with an opal stone of some sort. It fit his large hands well, slender with a small curve in the core, which looked somewhat menacing when he held it up towards Draco's nose.</p><p>Draco simply scoffed and watched bitterly as Theo cast the charm. A long string of silverish blue erupted from the tip of his wand and then took the form of a small, translucent blue Capuchin Monkey.</p><p>Of course Theodore Nott's patronus would be a fucking monkey—an animal that was annoying, loud, boisterous. Yet at the same time was smart, funny and somewhat beautiful.</p><p>Pansy erupted into another fit of giggles as they all watched the dainty monkey run through the air banging its chest before Theo got so peeved at their laughter that the Patronus de-corporealised as it hit the kitchen wall, falling over Kreacher, who had suddenly appeared from thin air, casting him in what looked like blue raindrops.</p><p>"Stupid blood-traitors! Casting magic like this in my house as if they are my masters!" Kreacher muttered, storming off towards the counters to fetch something from a draw. "Kreacher only likes Miss Luna, Miss Luna is very kind. Miss Luna does not steal Kreacher's ring."</p><p>"<em>Draco's </em>ring." Draco scoffed beneath his breath, twirling the ring that contained the black family snake crest on his finger. "Prat..."</p><p>Pansy rolled her eyes. "Luna is upstairs painting, why don't you go and bother her rather than muttering about us?"</p><p>Kreacher glared at her, taking what he wanted from the counter and disappeared with a crack.</p><p>"Okay, Parkinson," Theo said, leaning back on his chair with a small smirk playing on his lips. "Let them guess your patronus then."</p><p>Pansy looked at Draco and Hermione expectantly, her hands crossed together.</p><p>"Well, let me think." Draco hummed, tapping his chin. He was acting like this was super interesting and fun for him, but Hermione could feel the rigidness in his body—he was uncomfortable with this little guessing game.</p><p>Hermione knew deep down, maybe it was because Draco didn't have a patronus for <em>them</em> to guess.</p><p>"You <em>are</em> Pansy Parkinson, very sleek and smart and very <em>very </em>spiteful...." Draco continued, still acting deep in thought.</p><p>Hermione scoffed, running a hand through her hair and looked across at Draco with a playful, pointed expression, and watched his lips twerk into a smirk as she caught his eyes with her own. Something in the way his eyes bored over her made her stomach clench—it was like he was hungry, ravenous or impatient about something.</p><p>His head leant back ever so slightly as she interrupted him and he stared down at her over the tall bridge of his nose, his bottom lip becoming trapped by his teeth.</p><p>"You do know a patronus doesn't haveto mimic or look like their witch or wizard in any way right?—"</p><p>"Do you know that sometimes, you don't have to brag about how smart you are?" Draco interrupted her back, his smirk still cascading half his face. "I personally guess that Pansy's patronus is...hm...a Buffalo, yep, perfect match for you!"</p><p>Pansy let out a huff of annoyance and stuck her middle finger up in his direction.</p><p>"What about you, Rose?" Draco quirked, nudging her knee beneath the table in a way that made her have to clench her thighs. There was something about the way he was acting that made her think he was covering up his sadness surrounding his non-existent patronus. Or maybe he really was just...desperate for her.</p><p>Maybe he had finally realised how long it had been since they had touched. Maybe seeing Pansy with her tongue deep inside of her made him frenzied to taste her as well.</p><p>Hermione cleared her throat, hoping the heat between her legs wasn't causing her skin to ignite in a red glow and spoke with an unnaturally calm voice.</p><p>"Definitely not a buffalo, if we are being technical and basing your patronus from your physical <em>appearance.</em>" Hermione shot a glance sideways at Draco who was still sizing her up with his cold eyes.</p><p>They were almost completely black, not one ounce of blue glimmering beneath the chandelier above the table. It was like an uncontrollable desire had taken over, turning his eyes into an expression of the sea; a dark, frenzied whirlpool gaping in the middle of the ocean, eating away all its sapphire beauty in its rampaged hunger.</p><p>Hermione gulped and tore her eyes away.</p><p>"Maybe something like...a black cat? That would suit you very well, super agile, smart and sleek. Maybe also a raven," Hermione said, trying to ignore the way Draco was sliding his chair around the table to get closer to her. "Yes, that's my answer, a raven."</p><p>Pansy hissed, her hands flailing in the air. "So close! So close!"</p><p>Pansy mimicked Theo and pulled her wand from her skirt pocket. Her wand was sleek and black, the ink-colour wood was square rather than round, and the handle was slightly thicker than the rest of the wand. It had a small silver gemstone on the end, which matched her eyes perfectly.</p><p>With one quick swish of her hand, silver erupted from the tip, taking the form of a beautiful translucent Bat. Of course, Hermione was not surprised—it did match Pansy perfectly. With its large round beady eyes and slick wings, slender yet large, gothic yet extravagant all at once.</p><p>"Watch this," Pansy smirked, "Go tell Luna dinner is ready!" She spoke to the bat, which flew out of the kitchen doorway and upstairs.</p><p>In the midst of Pansy casting the patronus, Draco's hand had snaked around her thigh. Hermione hadn't noticed until she looked down at her thigh and saw his large palm encompassing it completely, squeezing it at the perfect pressure, enough for her head to go slightly dizzy.</p><p>"Stop!" Hermione whispered to him as Pansy and Theo bickered about his monkey patronus.</p><p> She tried to pry his hand away to stop herself fainting at the number of butterflies that were rising in her stomach. The warmth of his palm on her leg was making her extremely hot, in more places than one.</p><p>"Why? You look fucking hot," Draco leant down and whispered in her ear, "Can't I touch what's mine?"</p><p>Hermione's thighs clenched, obviously noticed by Draco who laughed breathlessly into her ear, his teeth grazing her earlobe.</p><p>"Thought so, you're such a who—" Draco's words were cut short by Pansy's patronus flying back into the kitchen.</p><p>It wasn't alone; it was being chased by a translucent blue hare, which was frolicking in the trail of glimmer left behind from the bat's wings as if it was jumping in long, summer-warm grass, its paws pouncing towards the bat flying around it in circles.</p><p>The silver wisps of smoke trailing between the animals intermingled then faded into sparkling dust as one.</p><p>Seconds later, Luna waltzed in. There was a paintbrush stuck behind one ear and her wand stuck behind the other and an apron draped over her curvy frame covered in a rainbow mess of mew green, lilac and thick black strokes running through them where she had clearly wiped her paintbrush.</p><p>"Afternoon." Luna smiled, falling into a seat beside Pansy, instantly interlocking their fingers. Hermione watched a small smile fall over the grace of Pansy's face, her pale skin turning pink. "What are we all talking about?"</p><p>"Patronuses, Lovegood, I'm assuming that bunny-rabbit was yours?" Theo asked, popping yet another grape from Pansy's plate into his mouth.</p><p>"It's a white hare, actually," Luna spoke, also taking a grape from Pansy's plate. "And yours is the monkey, I remember that Grace girl talking about it when she came here some time ago."</p><p>"Where does this mysterious Grace live, anyway?" Draco said, fingers still dancing on the skin above Hermione's knee.</p><p>"Nowhere interesting enough to interrupt our game!—enough about <em>that</em>, Mr Malfoy!" Pansy cut him short, an excited expression falling over her face. "What's yours then? You must have learnt the charm by <em>now</em>, my bet is a ferret!"</p><p>Draco's hand dropped from Hermione's knee and fell against the side of her chair instead. His body tensed up, and she knew it was from embarrassment.</p><p>It was silent for several seconds, Draco's mouth fell open and closed a few times but no words escaped the cavity of his throat.</p><p>Hermione interjected. "Better yet, why don't you try and guess <em>mine, </em>asthe only Gryffindor in the room."</p><p>"I know it already!" Luna yelled excitedly, almost toppling from her chair. "I remember, Harry taught us together, yours is the otter! Ron had the Jack Russell Terrier, and if I remember correctly...yes...Harry's is the stag, the same as his fathers!"</p><p>Pansy huffed in annoyance and tugged on Luna's fingers till their interlocked hands disappeared from the table and onto Pansy's lap, in a similar fashion to the way their patronus's had faded away as one.</p><p>"You just ruined it, Lu!" Pansy pouted. "I was going to guess a Golden retriever, because of your warm curly hair—or maybe even a lion, your hair did always look like a lion after double potions."</p><p>Hermione scoffed, pretending to be offended. Really, she was just grateful the attention was no longer on Draco and his non-existent patronus, because she could already feel him relaxing beside her.</p><p>"Anywho—show us the otter anyway." Theo gawked, looking very interested, with his mouth full of red grapes.</p><p>"Right, yeah." Hermione nodded, sliding her wand off the table and relishing in the usual feeling of buzzing warmth that sank from it into her palm.</p><p>"An otter, how <em>cute</em>." Draco laughed, rolling his eyes ever so slightly. "Was hoping it would be something slightly more ironic, like a giant grizzly bear or a shark, something totally not you."</p><p>To produce a patronus, you had to think of a happy memory. Hermione hadn't been able to produce a patronus for what felt like months, years even. So she closed her eyes and let her mind instantly flash to the moment that gave her some sort of purpose in life—the moment she found the locket-wand beneath Regulus' Black's bed.</p><p>"Very funny," Hermione rolled her eyes, but proceeded to say, "<em>expecto patronum</em>" and watched as the usual wisp of silver escaped the tip of her wand.</p><p>But what corporealised was not an Otter. It was definitely <em>not</em> an otter, she could tell the second four feet were not seen through the silver smoke, or fur or a small floppy tail.</p><p>And at first, Hermione thought it was just a botched spell, because it seemed as if the trail of silver smoke was just lasting longer than it usual, but it wasn't until Draco spoke that she realised exactly what the animal was.</p><p>"What type of Otter has scales?"</p><p>Oh yes, it was definitely <em>not </em>an otter. Instead, it was a slender translucent green pit viper.</p><p>The green pit viper was a breed of snake, if not one of the most <em>beautiful</em> breeds of snake, with a long lithe body and a rangy tongue, which was hissing as it floated above Hermione's wand, overlooking the group around the table.</p><p>"Is that a fucking <em>snake?"</em> Theo gasped, almost falling backwards from his chair. "Hermione, I thought it was going to be a cute little otter, not a fucking snake!"</p><p>Hermione's heart was a mixture of concern and confusion. Not only was she overly disappointed to discover that her patronus had changed, but she was also disappointed because she heard the scoff of dignity and ego coming from the blonde beside her, his hands rising up into the air like he was proud.</p><p>"Hermione Granger!" Draco bellowed, pointing up towards the snake that was moving around the air as if it was on a hunt. "Hermione fucking Granger, the Slytherin hating, blasted Gryffindor, with a snake patronus!"</p><p>"Can a patronus change?" Luna asked, rather dazed.</p><p>"Y—yes," Hermione whispered, staring up at the reptile in shock. "The form of a Patronus can change during the course of a witch or wizard's life if they experience something life-changing, such as bereavement, falling in love or profound shifts in a person's characte—"</p><p>She paused.</p><p>An intake of breath was heard from beside her. It was as though the lungs in Draco's body had been struck with some sort of freezing charm. He was completely frozen to his seat, his eyes shaking in the pupils.</p><p>"What?" He asked, an eyebrow raising. "W—"</p><p>"Why do you think it's taken the form of a <em>snake?</em>" Pansy intercepted, obviously picking up on the awkward air around them and Draco's strange reaction. "I mean, not to sound typical, but a snake is very...Slytherin."</p><p>She frowned, for a moment she almost dropped her wand to extinguish the wisps of silver above it. But she froze as she stared down at the wand in her hand, her eyes racking over the silver banding that attached the locket to the wand, which was taken from the ring Regulus wore.</p><p>The exact same model of ring that was worn by Draco.</p><p>"Draco—" Hermione gulped, glancing down to his finger, back to her wand, and back up at the translucent snake above her. "What type of snake is on the Black family crest again, the one on your ring?"</p><p>Draco cocked his head to the side and went to open his mouth, but another voice beat him to it.</p><p>"A green pit viper, miss." It was Kreacher, who once again had appeared from nowhere at her side. His head barely reached the top of her chair, but he was staring up at the snake which reflected wisps of silver in his glassy eyes. "The exact same snake that is in that silver fog, miss."</p><p>It was the first time Kreacher had ever called her 'Miss'.</p><p>Kreacher tore his eyes away from the patronus and glanced down at the wand that was practically dangling from Hermione's hand.</p><p>"The green pit viper signifies courage, stealth and the power to destroy when needed, miss." Kreacher continued. "That's whys Kreacher's masters wore the green pit viper on their finger, miss, that's why Master Regulus bound that ring to the wand, miss."</p><p>Pansy gasped, a hand falling over her mouth. "Holy shit."</p><p>She caught Draco's eye and saw him grin, his head leaning back to stare up at the snake in amazement before he whispered.</p><p>"Fitting, actually, that wand saved you and you saved it, it's only fitting it's engraved into your soul in more ways than one, isn't it?" Draco paused and licked his bottom lip. "I think this is just another way of telling you that you hold all the powers in the world that you want to, thanks to Regulus <em>Black."</em></p><p>—</p><p>The day had faded away and into twilight, and a mere few hours later Hermione was sitting on the bed in her room on the third floor, knees tucked beneath her bottom as her eyes lazily scanned over the book of research Regulus had left in the attic. Yet, she wasn't taking any information in.</p><p>Draco was sitting beside her, lounging lazily on his side with one broad arm holding his head up, the other hand slowly drawing circles in Hermione's hip bone that was exposed from where he had slowly been tugging at them in an 'innocently' paced manor.</p><p>The tension was thick in the air, whirling around Hermione's head like fog. It was hard to decipher what type of tension it really <em>was.</em></p><p>The atmosphere between the two of them that had been building all day did not seem to fizzle away by the unexpected change of her animal protector.</p><p>Instead, it seemed to fuel Draco's whirlpool of lust in a way that made Hermione hot with anticipation, waiting for him to strike.</p><p>So that's what she did. She simply waited. Out of pure spite, she would not strike <em>first</em>. By doing so, she realised there was nothing more she enjoyed than watching Draco slick with greed, slick with impatience and a lack of self-control.</p><p>Because Dear God, it was <em>so</em> obvious that he was trying to keep himself in control. From the way he had watched Hermione with black eyes as she changed into her night-wear, his lip absentmindedly falling between his teeth as she pulled her shirt over her head, his breathing stilling as she placed another shirt back over it. Just out of pure spite, she pulled on one of his shirts, letting it fall just below the curve of her ass.</p><p>It was so big that it fell from one shoulder, drawing his eyes to the sharp crevice of her collarbone. He stared at it, eyes flickering until she slid into the bed next to him, innocently picking up her book and placing it on her lap.</p><p>It was so obvious that he was <em>struggling </em>to keep his hands to himself too. Even now, with his fingers dancing lightly on her skin, clearly contesting to dig deeper, to let his nails sink into the soft flush of her skin and lap it up into his hands.</p><p>Even now, with his breathing staggered, with him taking shallow deep breaths into his chest, it was clear as fucking day he wanted to do nothing but indulge in her.</p><p>"Granger?" He spoke, voice so raspy it almost made Hermione do a double-take. "Put the fucking book down, now."</p><p>Her eyes widened as the pulse in her veins picked up, flooding her with heat.</p><p>Yet, she did as she was told, closing the book and placing it onto the desk beside her, beneath the yellow lampshade.</p><p>"Granger?" He asked again, inching closer to her, his fingers sinking into her hip slightly more roughly, enough to make her intake a breath. "Stop doing that."</p><p>Hermione quirked a brow. "Doing what?"</p><p>He hissed, sitting up in the bed so suddenly it creaked, not that he seemed to care. All he seemed to care about was gripping her shoulders, pushing her down into the mattress so roughly she actually whimpered.</p><p>It had happened so quickly that she closed her eyes. When she opened them, Draco was above her, one hand holding himself above her body, one gripping the headboard behind her head.</p><p>He was so broad Hermione actually felt threatened for a moment. Yet, she could do nothing but let her eyes graze over his naked torso, lapping up his wide shoulders, deep collar bones and fleshy scars running across his chest.</p><p>"You know what, you fucking <em>know</em>." He growled, dipping down so his nose brushed her own. He smirked, like the scent of her skin did nothing but arouse him further, like she was a drug and he was the addict—that's how it was every time.</p><p>He was addicted, and she relished in that.</p><p>She brought her fingers up to his chest, running her fingers along his collarbone, smirking when she felt his muscles tighten. "No? I don't know?"</p><p>He viciously pressed against her, his hips grazing the tops of her thighs and sank into where she wanted him most. She groaned without meaning to, feeling her underwear grow wetter and wetter from the small, yet powerful move.</p><p>"You do, you fucking know." He hissed, grinding down against her once more, "I've said it before, and I'll say it a-fucking-gain."</p><p>He paused. "No—don't moan, don't whimper, don't act so fucking precious like that—stay quiet."</p><p>She gulped and suppressed her moan.</p><p>"You know that you rile me up. When you walk around in your pyjamas, with your hair all curly and falling down over your shoulders, daring me to grasp them in my fingers and tug—" He breathed against her mouth. He pressed his lips against her own ever so slightly, drawing in her quiet whimper, but not enough to class it as a kiss. "Like right now, waltzing around the room with your ass on show and your tits poking through <em>my </em>t-shirt ."</p><p>He brought his hips back down against her, this time so deeply she felt his hardening dick against her thigh, coursing her legs to open so he could slip his large frame between them.</p><p>"All fucking day, I have <em>wanted</em> you." He dropped the hand from the headboard and drew it down against her hair, then across her face until it wrapped around her throat, tugging her head off the pillow to kiss her, but just for one short antagonising moment before he dropped it, still keeping his hand around her throat.</p><p>She could feel the ring on his finger brandishing into her neck, no doubt leaving an indent of a green pit viper on her skin.</p><p>"All day I've wanted what I can't fucking have." He breathed, dropping his head down to her jawline and kissing it right above where he was pressing against her windpipe. "And nothing hurts me more than not being able to have what I want."</p><p>"Who—fuck—who said you couldn't have me?" Hermione asked, feeling high on euphoria.</p><p>"Aren't you a virgin, Granger?" He asked, sucking her jawline in the spot that made her mewl. "—I told you to be fucking quiet—aren't you a precious little virgin?"</p><p>Hermione tried to stop the whimpering leaving her mouth when he grinded against her, his hard dick pressing against her clit, but she failed and moaned so loudly the grip on her throat tightened.</p><p>How could she not moan? How could she not feel as if she was going to pass out from the sheer thought of his dick sinking into her? She felt as if she was going fucking insane just from the subtle presser of his clothed dick against her heat.</p><p>"You fucked me with your fingers so hard I came twice—fuck keep doing that—you fucked me with your tongue so good I came all over your mouth—" Hermione breathed, knowing that her words would do nothing but ignite him. "You watched me come on the tongue of another woman with <em>your</em> tongue down my throat..."</p><p>She paused and hissed when his hand moved from her neck and up to her chin, where he grasped one side of her face with his fingers and the other with his palm. He pulled away to look down at her. His eyes were black and smokey–like he was a demon of carnality, ready to burn her to flames.</p><p>"...Why would me being a virgin matter? You think I wouldn't be able to handle your cock?" She quirked, barely audible from the way his grip on her face was slicking her lips together. "Because I want nothing more than your cock, <em>Anchor."</em></p><p>He sneered, rutting against her so roughly the bed began to creak beneath them.</p><p>"That's what you want?" He spoke against her mouth. "You want me to fuck you like a whore, Rose?"</p><p>She nodded, arching her back into him.</p><p>She smirked at the name change, it was like the old times, when he was fucking her with his fingers on the velvet sofa, begging her to make him stop.</p><p>"I want nothing more."</p><p>And just as Hermione thought he was going to divulge into her, just as she saw his eyes snap from black to twilight, just as she felt his clothed dick twitch against her soaking wet heat, there was a sound of a crack, and then a sound of a large gasp and wail.</p><p>Draco pulled away from her at the speed of light, leaving her breathless and void of his dick, so void that she wanted to scream in frustration.</p><p>"What the—"</p><p>"Winky is so sorry! Winky did not mean to interrupt!" The voice rang from somewhere by the edge of the room, and both Draco and Hermione's eyes ran towards it.</p><p>It was Winky the house-elf, standing with her knees wobbling and her hands over her large beady eyes.</p><p class="">"<em>Winky?</em>" Hermione gasped, wriggling free and sitting up on the bed, feeling her body riddle with shock.</p><p>She tried to ignore the dull thud in the puddle between her legs.</p><p>"Miss Hermione Granger!" Winky peered behind her hands, staring at Draco and Hermione, who both sat breathlessly and flushed on the bed. "Oh, Miss it's been such a long time!"</p><p>Draco scoffed. "Who are you? What the fuck are you doing here—"</p><p>Hermione swatted his arm, trying to ignore the guilt creeping into her stomach at the fact he was probably so hard that it was painful.</p><p>"Miss Winky is here with her friend! We have finally arrived at the famous Grimmauld Place that Kreacher so often spokes about at Hogwarts!" The elf said happily, a smile gracing her face, which was suddenly free of any fear from what she had just witnessed.</p><p>There was a silence before Winky waddled towards them, holding out a hand and stroking Hermione's knee with a smile on her face.</p><p>"I am here to tell you that Mr Blaise is here!" Winky chirped, "My friend Blaise brought me here too!"</p><p>–</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">Thank you to bleu_arbre on Instagram for the artwork, finally "THE ANKLE THING" HAS BEEN DRAWN!</span>
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    <span class="u">Also, thank you to Marie. Just because she is great.</span>
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    <span class="u">Don't forget to follow my wattpad and TikTok to be notified when my next story is posted.</span>
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<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Thirty-One.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione did not know Blaise well at all. Out of all of the Slytherin’s Draco had ever been acquainted with, she knew him the least.</p><p>At least with Theo, she had spoken to him on a few occasions, such as being paired up with him in classes, even if they weren’t all <em>great</em> experiences with him, she still had spoken to him. Same with Pansy, although they had previously loathed each other, there had still been some sort of communication between the two of them even if it wasn't all positive.</p><p>Blaise Zabini however, was a crux to all those who didn’t know him.</p><p>He was famous for his mysterious flare. The way he'd walk around the halls with his head held high and his dark eyes floating across all the heads below him, seemingly judging everybody like they were lesser than him and his pure-blood companionships.</p><p>And he was very coarse too, he would never speak his mind when he wanted to. For example, in potions, if he disagreed with something someone had said, most of the time, something <em>Hermione</em> had said when answering one of Snape or Slughorn’s questions, he wouldn't make it known. Instead, he would give a small little cough of amused scepticism before rolling his eyes and refusing to listen to her words completely.</p><p>And that’s how he was right now, staring at Hermione through his shiny aphotic eyes, roaming her body with the highest level of suspicion as she and Draco entered the room with Winky following excitedly at their heels.</p><p>The air in the Drawing room was rather tense, thick like a fog of scepticism. Blaise was leaning back against the piano, one hand already occupying a glass of dark whiskey. He was just as Hermione remembered, yet aged to the perfect degree. His large body was adorned in a white oxford shirt, three buttons open to show off his broad chest, and his slanted eyes continuing to stare at Hermione until the door closed behind them.</p><p>“So it’s true then,” Blaise started, a suspicious smirk on his face as his eyes raked over both her and Draco at the same time. “Hermione Granger is all shacked up with <em>our </em>Draco.”</p><p>He brought his glass to his lips and took a sip, swallowing it with a loud huff.</p><p>“It’s nice to see you, Blaise,” Hermione said, trying to force a genuine smile onto her face, yet deep down, she felt nervous. “How have you been?”</p><p>“Is that an attempt to be funny, Granger?” He raised an eyebrow, licking the residue of whiskey from his bottom lip with his tongue. “How have I been?”</p><p>“Careful, Blaise.” Draco warned beneath his breath, tugging Hermione along with him as he walked so they fell against the sofa rather than looming at the door.</p><p>Winky followed and jumped onto the sofa beside them, hopping up and down so excitedly that the dust from the holes of the sofa bellowed around them and caused them to cough.</p><p>“Oh, I mean not to be rude,” He had his free hand up in fake surrender, “But I decide to leave my position as a Death-Eater, couldn’t find my best-friends who turned out to be visiting the Lovegood home as well without me ever knowing, then I found out I was accused of Narcissa Malfoy’s death, then had to hide away—“</p><p>“That’s enough Blaise,” Draco spoke again, glaring up at him with an annoyed, yet somewhat playful expression on his face. “We know what’s happened, she’s not trying to spite you, she’s just asking a question.”</p><p>“She knows what’s <em>happened</em>?” Blaise raised an eyebrow. But he too was now sporting a less-inflicted expression, which had softened when Draco had begun to speak.</p><p>There was another pause, with no sound but the roaring crackling fire echoing throughout the room.</p><p>“Sure, but did you guys know that I’ve been spending my time with Andromeda?” Draco took a sharp breath at Blaise’s words, but Blaise continued speaking. “She sends her regards, by the way. Lovely woman, makes a <em>stunning</em> Sunday roast.”</p><p>Hermione frowned. At first, she thought it was a rather odd group of people, but was quickly reminded that she was sitting in a house with Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Luna Lovegood, Draco Malfoy and Kreacher the elf. So what was so odd about Blaise Zabini, Andromeda Tonks and Winky the elf?”</p><p>“My aunt?” Draco cocked his head to the side. “What the hell were you doing with my aunt?”</p><p>Blaise gave the faintest shrug and strode over to the rug, landing on the adjacent sofa to the one Hermione and Draco were sitting on. His body was so broad and large that he occupied over half the sofa, and he kept his legs at a regal spread, resting his whiskey glass on one knee.</p><p>Winky hopped excitedly from the sofa and flew over to the one Blaise had sat on, jumping by his shoulder.</p><p>“Miss Andromeda is very nice!” Winky squeaked, “Miss Andromeda took me in when I left Hogwarts! Miss Andromeda lets Winky drink butterbeer sometimes too!”</p><p>Blaise rolled his eyes and huffed. “Winky, why don’t you go upstairs and annoy Pansy Parkinson?”</p><p>Winky’s eyes went very wide, and she jumped from the sofa onto the floor. “There is more people here? Winky wants to meets them!”</p><p>She disappeared with a small crack.</p><p>“Anyway—“ Blaise chuckled darkly, taking a sip of his whiskey. “My mother and Andromeda were actually friends, not super close friends, but close enough for Andromeda to hear that I had disappeared and take me under her roof.”</p><p>“So Andromeda just took you into her home like the drop of a hat? With no warning?” Draco responded, holding Blaise’s gaze for a moment too long.</p><p>“Well, I told mother about my regrets of taking the Dark Mark. She didn’t care much, she was too preoccupied deciding which red dress to wear to the gala that night. Luckily, Andromeda was going to the gala too and was getting ready <em>with</em> mother. She told me I could take refuge at her home with Ted. Very nice people actually.” Blaise shrugged.</p><p>He paused and said with a crestfallen expression. “Mother wanted nothing to do with it, of course, she was much too busy with her third husband of the year, I think she forgot after a while I had left.”</p><p>Draco let out a small chuckle, like there was some sort of inside joke Hermione did not understand.</p><p>After a short moment, Hermione was quickly reminded of her time at Professor Slughorn's dinner parties, famously coined as “<em>The Slug Club</em>”. She had forgotten that Blaise was at the dinners with her on more than one occasion, and she briefly remembered learning about Mrs Zabini’s <em>famous</em> weddings due to Professor Slughorn’s prying.</p><p>Hermione learnt that Blaise Zabini was the son of a famously beautiful witch, who professor Slughorn quickly bragged about teaching all those years before. She had been widowed over eight times in the past ten years. Each husband's death occurred under suspicious circumstances and left the already wealthy Mrs Zabini and her son with more money, which Blaise was quick to dismiss when Harry had pestered him for more details during the Christmas Slug Club dinner. </p><p>She knew little of his real father's whereabouts; yet it wasn’t hard to assume he was a follower of the Dark Lord. How else would he have ended up with the dark mark branded onto his arm?</p><p>“She’s in Paris at the moment,” Blaise continued, rolling his eyes again. “I’m sure father is more than worried about my whereabouts though, but not as worried as <em>Lucius</em> to put my face all over the prophet…”</p><p>Draco visibly shuddered. “Right. My dad. I forgot about <em>that </em>situation.”</p><p>Blaise chuckled and swallowed the rest of his rink in one swift gulp.</p><p>“Granger,” Blaise said, looking back at Hermione through his thick eyelashes. His lips quirked into a menacing smile ever so slightly. “Why are you here?”</p><p>Hermione scoffed, feeling herself grow somewhat offended. “Am I <em>not</em> allowed to be here? I don’t know about you, Zabini, but this was <em>my</em> home years ago.”</p><p>Draco hummed, his hand tightening around her waist, fingers ghosting over the waistband of her trousers that she had thrown on in a hurry when Winky had disrupted them.</p><p>“You can’t blame me for asking, Granger.” Blaise huffed. “Draco is my best friend, I don’t want to see him have his heart broken whilst having to deal with the death of his mother and the impending doom that comes with his betrayal to the Dark Lord.”</p><p>Draco stayed silent, letting Blaise and Hermione continue their conversation. Hermione liked that; that he would let her have a grown discussion on her own accord without disrupting her or speaking over her feelings.</p><p>“He won’t have his heartbroken.” Hermione couldn’t help but roll her eyes ever so slightly. “That would require him to have a heart, first of all.”</p><p>Blaise’s lips quirked up and he laughed, shaking his head in humoured disbelief. Draco only tightened his grip on her waist, letting his fingernails dig ever so slightly into her skin as if he was reminding her to watch her tone. She <em>loved</em> it.</p><p>“I guess you’re right, Granger.” Blaise quirked, he rubbed his chin with his hand and Hermione knew he was trying to size her up, trying to decipher whether he should trust her or not. “And you’re here by choice then? You haven’t tried to escape Draco’s clutches? I can’t help but feel you are...different.”</p><p>Without realising, Hermione rolled her eyes again.</p><p>“War changes people, Zabini. I’m not the girl I was back at Hogwarts and I'm sure you're not the boy I once knew at Hogwarts too.” Hermione said with a small incline of her head. “War ages you, war fills you with intelligence, with pain and discomfort. People need <em>people</em> in War.”</p><p>He nodded and clicked his tongue, leaning forward into the eye-line of the roaring fire which coated his skin in a warm saffron splendour.</p><p>“You didn’t want Harry and Ron during the war?” His voice was attentive, his voice was cold yet warm at once, making it rather hard for Hermione to figure out his ploy. “What happened to the Golden Trio? Why Draco?”</p><p>Hermione found it very hard to answer. Suddenly, the tense air around them seemed to tighten even more, ghosting the air in chill despite the flames lusting around them.</p><p>She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders, gaining energy from Draco's nails dragging against her skin.</p><p>“I was led here by forces I can’t explain. Harry and Ron didn’t need me for <em>their</em> task, and I didn’t need them for <em>mine</em>. Two separate roads that will come to the same destination and work in unity, I’m sure.” She explained.</p><p>“Granger?” Blaise said, raising a brow. “That makes no sense.”</p><p>“It makes perfect sense, Blaise,” Draco interjected, with a large scoff. “There’s a war, Hermione has a different role to play in it than Four eyes and Ginger cunt. But the tasks will work together eventually.”</p><p>
  <em>They have to find the Horcruxes and Hermione will destroy them.</em>
</p><p>She pursed her lips and watched Blaise eye Draco suspiciously before he let out a laugh.</p><p>“Right, <em>okay</em>.” He shook his head, leaning forward to place his empty whiskey glance on the rug below him, as there was no coffee table in the Drawing room. “So, basically your task is to stay here sucking Draco’s cock while Harry and Ron are being chased down by Death-Eaters?”</p><p>It was silent for a few seconds, and Hermione wasn’t sure whether Draco was going to stand up and punch him in the face or roar with laughter. Apparently, he chose the latter, leaning his head back and cackling, Blaise joined in, shaking his head again until Draco spoke up, seeming to ignore Hermione’s slight scowl.</p><p>“I would say <em>yes, </em>but the Death-Eaters have had their fair share of chasing us about, too.” Draco chuckled, throwing his hands up in the air in an animated annoyance. “Don’t even get us started about our trip to Greenwich, ended in a complete disaster when—“</p><p>Draco paused, cocking his head to the side.</p><p>Hermione followed suit, staring at him expectantly, wondering what had made him so perplexed that he’d stop retelling the memory of <em>‘stunning the Gryffindor prefect’ </em>before he had even started.</p><p>He turned his attention to her, apparently forgetting Blaise was even in the room with them.</p><p>“Hermione, in that cafe, when you used the unforgivable curse—what—what did the wand feel like?” Draco asked, ignoring the confused expression coming his way from Blaise. “Like, you blew that place to fucking <em>pieces</em>...it was like the wand exploded with power, right?”</p><p>“Well, it had always been rather powerful even before casting the unforgivable, but somewhat uncontrollable too.” Hermione pursed her lips together. “After casting the cruciatus curse...well...it kind of exploded, didn’t it? In all that thick black ink like smoke…”</p><p>“You used the cruciatus curse, Granger? Shit that <em>is</em> kinda attractive.” Blaise mused, leaning back against the sofa, Draco glared at him but all he did was hold his hands up in a fake surrender and give a dark smirk.</p><p>“Remember how you asked how the venom of the basilisk fang hadn’t destroyed the Horcrux? How we wondered how you would <em>destroy</em> the locket?” Draco asked, suddenly looking very concentrated, his eyes squinting and his lip falling beneath his teeth.</p><p>“Yes, I remember…” Hermione’s voice was rather slow, her brain beginning to work overtime without her asking it to.</p><p>“Then what if using the unforgivable curse set off the basilisk venom?” Draco said, his eyes flashing. “Basilisk venom fights against dark magic, which is exactly what an unforgivable is, maybe casting such a dark spell awoke the Basilisk venom and sent it flooding into the locket, therefore—destroying it—which is why you could suddenly control it afterwards.”</p><p>
  <em>Fuck. He was right.</em>
</p><p>He was most definitely right.</p><p>He was so right that the way Draco was speaking with so much intelligence dripping from his skin impressed her more than it really should have. It suddenly made him look even more attractive than ever, and she had the strong urge to simply jump on him and lay her lips against his own.</p><p>Hermione had always believed there was nothing more attractive than intelligence.</p><p>“You’re literally so right!” Hermione gasped, pulling her wand out of the pocket of the trousers she had hastily thrown on.</p><p>She held it beneath the light and inspected it carefully, and her suspicions were correct, the part of the locket that was closest to the wood was slightly charred, small fragments of the resign chipped away—like it had been burnt.</p><p>“That means that we’ve already destroyed one of the Horcruxes...right?” Hermione said slowly, trying to not let herself becoming too hopeful.</p><p>Draco only quirked his lips higher, his eyes flashing dangerously as he ran a tongue over his bottom lip.</p><p>“That means <em>you </em>destroyed one of the Horcruxes already.” He said, hand latching onto her waist once more, tugging her closer to him. “Regulus would be rather proud, you know.”</p><p>At that, Hermione felt the utmost pride swelling into her stomach, and she swore she could hear the ghost of Regulus’ voice ringing through her mind, saying <em>‘Thank you, Miss Hermione Granger.”</em></p><p>“What the fuck are you guys talking about?” Blaise asked, quirking up and eyebrow.</p><p>However, before Hermione could respond Winky the elf appeared in the room once more. She looked rather dazed, her mewy yellow skin splashed with an arrangement of coloured paints and her little wrists covered in Pansy’s bangles. Yet, she was smiling brighter than Hermione had ever seen an elf smile.</p><p>“ Winky loves it here! Miss Pansy is oh so lovely!” Winky squealed, throwing her tiny hands up into the air, and Hermione noticed that Pansy had painted her nails as well. “Miss Luna let Winky paint! She let Winky paint! Oh, Blaise! Let’s stay here for a while!”</p><p>Hermione’s heart began to swell. It seemed like Winky’s happiness radiated. Blaise smiled and rolled his eyes playfully, and Draco let out some sort of snort.</p><p>“Miss Hermione Granger should paint her nails too!” Winky said, beaming.</p><p>It seemed as if Winky’s loud excited chatter set off Walburga's portrait again, as the usual wails of “<em>Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Mudbloods and Blood traitors!, leave this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers--“ </em>filled the Drawing room.</p><p>“Does that stupid woman ever shut her fucking mouth?” The Drawing room door was thrown open and Pansy and Luna entered the room hand-in-hand, both their clothes covered in thick colourful paint, “Blaise! You’re <em>finally </em>here!”</p><p>Pansy clapped her hands excitedly and Winky mimicked her, giggling as she clapped her hands together over and over, blocking out the screams from the portrait in the corridor.</p><p>“Oh, Blaise this little elf is just so lovely, much better than that mumbly old Kreacher…” Pansy commented, wiping away some of the paint from her fingers onto her beige apron. “She just helped Luna finish painting her current portrait, it’s of <em>you</em>, actually Hermione.”</p><p>“<em>me?</em>” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why me?”</p><p>“Because you’re lovely. You deserve a portrait,” Luna shrugged. “I’m going to do Draco and Pansy tomorrow, maybe I’ll attempt a self-portrait too, but it might not be great!”</p><p>“It’ll be beautiful!” Pansy sighed, leaning over and pressing a kiss onto Luna’s cheek. “Right well, now we are all here, I think it’s time for a party, don’t you? Pinky, could you go and wake up Theo? Annoying boy on the fourth floor?”</p><p>Winky squeaked excitedly, clapping her hands again.</p><p>“It’s Winky miss! But if you think Pinky is better, miss, I’ll be Pinky! Pinky will go and get the annoying boy Theo!” And with that, Winky disappeared and moments later a scared scream, which sounded an awful lot like Theo, echoed from the fourth floor.</p><p>“Okay, go get ready, all of you,” Pansy demanded, brushing tufts of hair out of her face. “I have a meetingwith the Dark Lord tomorrow, so I could really use a tonic to calm my nerves.”</p><p>“I see you're still an alcoholic, Pansy?” Blaise smirked, shooting a glance between Luna and Pansy with a sceptical expression. “And you finally found a girl to sink your teeth into? About time…”</p><p>Pansy went to retort, but Luna spoke with a ductile town. “Actually, it’s me who sinks my teeth—“</p><p>“Enough!” Pansy yelped, her cheeks turning pink. “Right, be ready by—“</p><p>“Why do we have to get ready? It’s not like anyone can see us!” Draco asked, his fingers leaving Hermione’s waist for the shortest of moments.</p><p>“Because we’ve been lounging around looking like scuffs for the past month, that’s why.” Pansy rolled her eyes. “Now, Hermione, feel free to borrow my forest green dress, it’ll match your new Patronus just lovely.”</p><p>—</p><p>Draco was once again laying on the bed in the dusty room with one leg bent and a book leaning against it. His eyes were prying against the pages, his bottom lip stuck between his teeth in deep concentration.</p><p>Hermione was unaware of how many times Draco must have read the poetry book by Emily Brontë, yet she didn’t dare to comment on it. For he loved it, his eyes lit up and sparkled as he inspected the words like it was infecting him with hope, passiveness and drenching him in calmness.</p><p>Observing him in the mirror, Hermione combed through her wavy hair with her fingers, untangling the knots that had formed. Though, she couldn’t really focus on cleansing her appearance, because Draco had started silently mouthing the words he was reading which distracted her beyond belief. </p><p>In moments like this, Hermione questioned how she had ever found him <em>anything</em> but <em>beautiful</em>. She wondered how she ever thought him repulsive, or how she ever viewed him as boorish. Because right now–he was ravishing, with his white hair falling over his forehead, his blue eyes gleaming beneath the yellow light and his soft placid skin gleaming like silk.</p><p>Yet, the silk was paired with stone, with every stretch of soft skin was a jolt of marble—his soft cheekbones aligned with his sharp jawline, and his sharp eyes conjoined with the placid blue of his iris.</p><p>Draco turned a page, continuing to read his book as if there was nothing else in the world.</p><p>“You should start getting ready, Draco,” Hermione said, still staring into the mirror and attempting to smooth her hair. “Pansy wants us down there at nine sharp.”</p><p>Draco looked up from his book, his eyes gracing over Hermione from the back, boring into the mirror until they fell against her face. There was a small tug at his lips.</p><p>“I’m waiting for you to put <em>that</em>—“ He pointed to the green dress hanging on the back of the door, “—on, so I work out whether I want to rip it off you before we head downstairs or not.”</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but clench her thighs at the thought of Draco pushing the dress up her legs and sinking into her. She cleared her throat and turned on her heels, shooting him a warning glance.</p><p>“Be careful what you say, Mr Malfoy.” She mused, picking her wand up from the table and casting a quick charm to coat her skin in a thin layer of powder and attach a soft red hue to her lips. “Pansy won’t be happy if we miss the <em>party</em> because you can’t keep it in your trousers.”</p><p>Draco clicked his tongue and tilted his head. His eyes filled with a dangerous taunt, turning them a dark smokey blue.</p><p>“Put the dress on.” He ordered, fingers dancing over the book in his hands as he dropped it onto the bedside table with a thud. “Now.”</p><p>Hermione’s eyes widened, but she obeyed with no more questioning. She stumbled to the edge of the door, and plucked the dress up in her hands.</p><p>It was a dark forest green, made of thick silk and white thread where the hemline was embroidered with ivory flowers. It would never be something she’d wear in the past, the short length and revealing chest all so delirious and dangerous, but the expectant glare coming from the bed gave her some sort of wavered confidence.</p><p>“Thank you for…” Hermione pulled her, Draco’s, t-shirt, over her head and heard him intake a breath. “For figuring out that we must've already destroyed the Horcrux—It fills me with a lot of confidence.”</p><p>“I know I’m smart, it’s a <em>great</em> thing,” He said, voice low and croaky, “But I’m not concerned about <em>that</em> right now, Granger.”</p><p>Hermione scoffed. She lingered purposely for a moment in nothing but her underwear, letting the yellow candlelight engulf her skin in a warm treacherous colour.</p><p>“Do you know you frequently change the names you call me?” Hermione raised a brow. “It’s rather confusing.”</p><p>“Why, <em>Granger,</em> it very much depends on my mood.” He mused back, eyes dark against her body. “And I think you’ve certainly figured out which mood I am in depending on what name I choose for you, haven’t you?”</p><p>“Hm, yes,” Hermione pondered, “Hermione when you're in a soft, nice mood. Granger when your labouring between hatred and <em>horniness. </em>Then when you’re touching me in ways you feel you shouldn’t be, you call me by a name that is not my name at all—Rose. Because calling me Rose reminds you that I am someone you shouldn’t be indulging in, doesn’t it?”</p><p>He hummed, sitting up in the bed and not for a moment letting his eyes stray from her frame.</p><p>“Calling me Rose reminds you of the boathouse— it reminds you of when you hated me more than you’ve ever hated anything. You call me Rose so after you touch me you can pretend it wasn’t really <em>me </em>you touched, aren’t I right? You’re afraid that if you call me Hermione with your fingers inside of me, it will form something you're afraid of. Calling me Rose when we are intimate dismisses that fear.”</p><p>Draco didn’t say anything as Hermione lifted the dress over her body. Instead, his breathing became shallow, his chest rising and falling like he had just ran a mile. He knew she was right, and he was too scared to admit it. Not that she needed him to, definitely not, it was more than obvious from the way his fingers twitched as she spoke and how his eyes went smokey.</p><p>Hermione waltzed back over to the mirror, purposefully swinging her hips in her wake to study her reflection. Although the dress was nothing she’d ever wear in the past, she couldn’t help but admit that did suit her awfully well. The green colour contrasted against her dewy skin and the short length complimented the curves in her thighs. The only thing that ruined it was the bandage still wrapped around her forearm, because she had still refused to look at the scar Bellatrix Lestrange had carved into her skin.</p><p>And from the way Draco was staring at her, his tongue running across his bottom lip—she was sure he agreed she looked more than <em>nice</em>.</p><p>Rather than drawing away from his haughty attitude, she relished in it. She drew her hands through her hair and lifted her arms to stick out her chest, and she unconsciously pushed out a hip. She smirked when she heard Draco groan, pulling himself up onto his knees and edging towards the edge of the bed, where he then pulled himself around to let his legs hang from the side, his feet on the floor.</p><p>His new position struck something in her mind. Because <em>oh</em>, how easy it would be to slide down onto her knees and unbuckle his trousers. <em>Oh</em>, how easy it would be to take him in her mouth and show <em>him</em> what it felt like to be touched become <em>Anchor i</em>n the same way she became<em> Rose</em>.</p><p>After all this time, she had never made <em>him</em> come. After all this time, it was always <em>him</em> who did the work. And while she knew why—that he was scared of opening himself up in that way and doing something he might regret—she knew deep down in his chest he was craving it, he was craving the gentle bob of her head the feeling of her tonsils on his tip—he must’ve been.</p><p>She span on her heels once more, staring down at him at his place on the bed. His skin was a sweet tinge of peach, and one subtle glance down to his crotch confirmed that he wanted nothing more than <em>her.</em></p><p>But she didn’t want to give him herself—she wanted <em>him.</em></p><p>“Draco,” She mused, stepping forward and running a hand through his hair, tugging it slightly where there were tangles and causing him to suck in a deep breath that rattled in his chest.</p><p>“Granger,” He said back, glancing up at her with uncertain eyes. “Let me rip that fucking dress of you <em>please.”</em></p><p>She smirked, moving her hands from the tip of his head to where his skull curved. And there she continued to run her hands in his hair, enjoying the subtle groans of pleasure that mused out of his throat. She rounded her hands to his jaw, mimicking the way he sank his nails into her skin and felt his muscles stiffen as he opened his legs and let her slip inside of them while his hands swam over her body and landed at the curve of her ass beneath the dress.</p><p>“No…” She teased, letting her finger run over his bottom lip. The way he hissed depicted he wasn't sure how to feel about letting <em>her</em> take control when it was usually <em>him</em> who had always had the reigns. But he still let her, he didn’t stop her, he didn’t grab her and press her against the bed to take control. “Let me—“</p><p>“Let <em>me</em> fuck you, Granger.” He cut her off but still continued to let her finger run across his lip, working its way to his jawline. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to fuck you till you’re screaming? So that you’re begging for it harder, rougher?”</p><p>His eyes were working over her in the way a shark circles its prey before striking.</p><p>She smirked and said nothing. Instead, she dropped to her knees, latching her hands onto each of his clothed thighs, massaging them and watching them twitch beneath her touch.</p><p>“What are you—“ He groaned when her hand fell over his dick, feeling it’s hardness. “—fuck, Granger, you don’t have to.”</p><p>She peered up at him. His face was a cross between lustful and concerned, like he was scared he was going to scare her or hurt her or…</p><p>“I <em>want</em> to, if you want me to,” Her voice was hot, fingers pressing against the tip of his dick beneath his trousers, “I want to taste you, I want to <em>feel</em> you.”</p><p>His hands fell into her hair, creating knots where she had just removed them, and his hands came at the base of her skull and rested there while he spoke.</p><p>“I won’t be able to control myself…” He whispered, staring down at her through his nose. His breath was hot and tacky—Desperate. “...I lose all sense of control when it comes to you...if I let myself indulge I won’t be able to stop.”</p><p>Her fingers began to unbuckle his belt, and he let out a tiny breathy <em>“fuck”</em> when she clicked it open and undid his buttons. His hips already arched into her touch as soon as she pulled down the zipper, and his chest was rising and falling with so much vigour it made her feel proud.</p><p>She never knew she could make someone feel like <em>this.</em></p><p>“I <em>want</em> you to lose control, Draco, please,” She whimpered, feeling the pressure at the back of her head where he was tugging at her hair to steady himself. “I want you to indulge in my throat and fuck it until I can’t speak.”</p><p>He stilled, his fingers faltering in her hair. For a moment she mentally slapped herself for talking too obscene, fearing it had scared him off. Yet, something snaps inside of him, and his lips twerk up into a devilish smirk that causes wildlife to erupt between her legs.</p><p>“You want me to <em>fuck</em> your mouth?” He clicks his tongue, yanking her hand backwards so he can stare down into her eyes. “The perfect little Gryffindor prefect wants their throat to be fucked?”</p><p>“P—please.” She whimpered, feeling the floorboards beneath her knees digging into her skin. “I want to know how good you taste…”</p><p>“Fine, Granger, fucking fine,” He loosened the tug on her hair <em>ever</em> so slightly so that she could continue to undo his trousers and slide them down his legs. “But I’ll be rough with you, just how I’ve always wanted to be—just hold up three fingers if it’s too much—<em>fuck</em>—okay?”</p><p>She nodded as her mouth watered when he was in nothing but his boxers. She can see how big his dick was through the thin grey material and she could see the wet circle of pre-come oozing from the tip. For a moment she felt terrified, wondering how on earth she’d ever be able to please <em>that</em>, but one glance up at his ravenous face and she was hooking her fingers around the waistband of the last of his clothing and throwing it somewhere behind her.</p><p>She had known he was big from the times she had straddled him on the sofa in Southwark and from the grinding that ensured earlier that day—but she didn’t expect it to be <em>that big. </em>It sprung and hit his torso, and he let out a little hiss at the cold air, his thighs twitching beneath her touch.</p><p>“Take it like a good fucking girl,” He spat, tugging her closer towards him and whimpering ever so slightly when she took his large girth in her hands. “That’s it, good girl.”</p><p>For a moment, she panicked. She had never done this before, and she wanted nothing more than to please him. Yet, she assumed it couldn’t be so hard to work out, could it? Even from the reaction he gave when she took his girth in her small hands she knew he was sensitive.</p><p>She removed her hand for the smallest second and spat on it, which apparently was the right thing to do when he cursed, rolling his head back the moment her hand reattached to the base of his dick and slowly brought it towards his tip to coat it in her spit.</p><p>“Fuck, Granger, your hands are so small compared to my cock,” He hissed, tugging back on her hair. “So fucking cute.”</p><p>Cute? Hermione didn’t want to be cute. Hermione wanted him to <em>beg</em> for her. She wanted him to moan and whimper and twitch for her.</p><p>So that’s what she’d make him do. She bent down and took him in her mouth, which obviously shocked him, because he let out some sort of strained groan and bucked up into her mouth without warning, not all the way but enough to make her eyes widen in shock.</p><p>His dick was so big that the tip nearly filled her entire mouth. She pulled her mouth out with a pop and stared up at him with a gaze made of fire and ice, which was ruefully returned.</p><p>Just to punish him for pressing his hips up towards her with no warning, she slowly licked her tongue around the circumference of his tip, lapping up all of the precomethat was leaking from it.</p><p>“Don’t fucking tease,” He said breathlessly, “Open your fucking mouth, go on, be the whore you really are, Rose.”</p><p>Her eyes widened as he pressed her lips against his dick by her hair giving her no option but to open them and let his dick slide into her mouth, filling it until she felt it pressing against her throat.</p><p>“No gag reflex?” He mused, pressing his length deeper into her mouth, smirking at the way tears began to form at the edges of her eyes. “You really are a slut aren’t you? Taking my cock so well—I bet your cunt would take it even better.”</p><p>Truthfully, she was trying her best not to gag. But, she kind of liked it that way, having to relax her jaw and dig her nails into his thighs so he could continue to press deeper and harder against the back of her throat, rubbing his juices against her tonsils, whimpering all at the same time.</p><p>She hummed against his dick, feeling pride when he moaned in pleasure and slammed his dick further down her throat, she gagged slightly but didn’t have time to dwell on it because he began thrusting into her mouth so hard her jaw went slack, simply opening up as a hole for him to fuck himself into.</p><p>The look on his face was so attractive she had to squeeze her thighs together to stop herself from touching her dripping wet heat beneath her dress, as much as she knew Draco would relish in that, this was for him and him only, and she wanted all the attention on <em>him</em> and make him come.</p><p>She was desperate to know what he tasted like.</p><p>“Fuck—Granger—Gonna come all over your face if you keep whimpering around my cock like that—“ He grunted, staring down at her through his hungry eyes. “So fucking pretty...so fucking pretty, Granger.”</p><p>Hermione simply looked back up at him through her wet, glazed eyes. She wondered what she looked like from his angle, her face hot and wet and her hair tangled up in bunches in his large slender hands, his dick sliding in and out of her throat while she mewled and clung to his thighs.</p><p>His trusts started to get lagged, his breath becoming rigid and his thighs twitching beneath her. She knew he was close, and to edge him on she grasped a hand from her hair and guided it towards her chest, where he pulled down her dress and bra and grasped her naked boob in his hand and moaned when she began to whimper around his length at the pleasure it created for her.</p><p>“Oh god you take it so well—“ He hissed, flicking her nipple while his thrusts got even sloppier. “—Such a dirty Mudblood taking cock so well…”</p><p>He gasped and pulled his dick free from her mouth, grasping it in the hand that had been in her hair and pumping himself. “Gonna come all over your fucking face, fuck—fuck—“</p><p>But Hermione didn’t <em>want</em> him to come on her face. She wanted to <em>taste</em> him. She wanted to relish in the come of someone so evil, someone so cruel and vicious yet someone who was so placid and kind and loveable. She wanted him and all of him, in every aspect she could get.</p><p>“No...” She said breathlessly, brushing his hand away and taking his dick in her own hands, pumping it quickly with her small fingers as she guided it back to her mouth.</p><p>“Come in my mouth, Draco,” She guided the tip back into her mouth and felt his entire body go rigid. “Want—want to taste all of you—please.”</p><p>“Who would’ve thought Hermione Granger would be begging for a Death-Eaters come?” He smirked, pressing his dick into her mouth in the same, quick pace as before. “Who knew–fuck—Potter’s Mudblood was such a whore?”</p><p>His hand was still kneading her boob, and his head rolled back and exposed his sweaty adam’s apple, bobbing beneath the candlelight as he froze.</p><p>“Fuck I’m coming—“ He groaned, rolling his head back down to stare into Hermione’s eyes as he came. “Hermione, you’re so fucking—shit—fucking beautiful taking my dick like this.”</p><p>
  <em>Hermione.</em>
</p><p>He stilled inside of her, his fingers grasping desperately in her curls as he came inside of her mouth, his mouth agape as she swallowed it all, trying not to grimace at the new salty taste.</p><p>Yet, it tasted so delicious. </p><p>She licked him clean, starting from the base of his dick to the tip while he rode out his orgasm and pulled off with a pop, smirking at the trail of spit that connected her lips to his dick.</p><p>“Fuck Hermione…” He breathed, chest rising and falling, he ran a finger over her bottom lip, collecting the leftover juices before giving a dark chuckle and pulling his hand free from her hair. “That was—Merlin you look so beautiful all ruined for me…”</p><p>A twinge of red ran to her cheeks as she felt some sort of praise at his words, but it was nothing compared to the thudding between her thighs. She had enjoyed watching him wither for him so much that she was dripping and could feel her juices coating her underwear, sliding down her legs.</p><p>“Did you like that?” Hermione hummed, stroking his thighs as his finger trailed from her swollen lip to her jawline and caressed her cheek.</p><p>“So good,” Draco pulled her to her feet so she fell between his thighs. His hand slid beneath her dress and onto her thigh, feeling her wetness. He stilled, looking up at her with hunger on his face. “But not as good as your pussy feels, I bet.”</p><p>Her legs twitched, the thought of him sinking into her after he had just came down her throat made her mewl inside, desperate for his touch. “<em>Please</em>.”</p><p>His fingers were about to push her knickers aside when there was another, annoyingly familiar <em>crack</em> and Hermione saw Winky appear right by the bedroom door.</p><p>“Are you kidding me?” Draco groaned, glaring over to the small elf who jumped excitedly in the corner. “This is why I <em>hate </em>elves!”</p><p>“Winky has been told to tell mr Draco and miss Hermione to stop—“ Winky coughed and tried to mimic Pansy’s elegant accent “—having rough sex and come and join the party—“ Winky returned to her normal voice. “—You is more than twenty minutes late!”</p><p>“Yeah yeah! Just fuck off will you!” Draco huffed, fingers still roaming Hermione’s ass. “We’ll be down soon!”</p><p>Winky pouted and disappeared once more.</p><p>Hermione swatted his arm and stalked away from him, she picked up her wand in the process to clean herself up before hearing downstairs.</p><p>“Keep disrespecting elves like that and I’ll never let your dick within a ten-inch radius of me ever again,” Hermione quirked, watching Draco stand and re-dress himself, following her out into the corridor.</p><p>“I’m going to fucking destroy you later,” He whispered into her ear as Hermione started down the stairs.</p><p>—</p><p>On entering the Drawing room, Hermione’s ears were met with the loud sound of music thumping from an old record player that must have been hidden away somewhere in the house.</p><p>The room had been cleverly charmed so that only this room had sound, to stop the portraits outside from having any hissy fits. Hermione entered the room and let her body be swept up with the tune of the music, instantly feeling herself relax.</p><p>Pansy was already bent in front of Luna, rubbing her ass up against the blonde's body, who was holding Pansy's hips looking somewhat bewildered and somewhat turned-on.</p><p>Pansy had a cup of her famous pink-gin in her hand and was taking sips of it in time with the music. Hermione’s eyes widened at her outfit—a black leather corset and a leather skirt, revealing several tattoos, including her bat tattoo Hermione spotted on her knee, and a silver choker around her throat. She was the complete opposite of Luna, who was draped in beige corduroy trousers and a blue jumper, looking nowhere but down at Pansy’s ass in front of her body.</p><p>Blaise was still almost in the exact same position as Draco and Hermione had left him; sitting with his legs spread open on the sofa, resting a glass of whiskey on his knee. Theo was on the sofa opposite him, drinking what looked like vodka and coke from a pink straw, his cheeks already a bright shade of fuchsia.</p><p>Kreacher was lingering in the far corner of the room, one hand over his ears and the other ‘dusting’ the fireplace—but Hermione knew he was really there just to pry on their conversations and trying to avoid the excited young elf, Winky.</p><p>However, as soon as the drawing room door closed behind them, everyone seemed to look their way.</p><p>Theo peered down at Hermione’s knees and cackled so loudly that Winky put her hands over ears and ran to the other side of the room in shock.</p><p>“I <em>told </em>you!” Theo said, pointing a finger at Blaise. “I knew he was getting a blowjob! That’s the only times he'd ever make <em>those </em>sorts of noises!”</p><p>Draco simply rolled his eyes and headed to the piano, picking up a glass of fire whisky and took a deep sip, not once grimacing at the taste.</p><p>“So what you’re saying Theo, is that you lingered outside of my bedroom door when I was getting head?” Draco raised a brow playfully. “Seems awfully...gay...to me?”</p><p>“Oh, pardon me Draco!” Theo scoffed, taking a sip and then animatedly throwing his arms in the air as he continued his defence. “I could hardly miss it! Came up here to get my vodka and all I hear is—“</p><p>He cleared his throat and put his hand in front himself to imitate someone giving him a blowjob and spoke in a voice that was almost uncanny to Draco’s. “<em>Yes, Hermione, yes! Let me come on your face Hermione please do me the honour of coming on your beautiful Gryffindor face!”</em></p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes and caught Blaise shooting her a small, uncertain smile. She was just heading to speak to him in an attempt to break the ice between them when Luna interjected, out of breath from all her dancing.</p><p>“Theodore, there’s no need to make fun of someone’s sexual life, is there?” She walked over, pulling a rather tipsy Pansy along in her wake. “I mean, would you make fun of me if I told you Pansy made me dress up like Profess—“</p><p>“Stop right there!” Blaise made a fake gagging noise. “I do <em>not</em> want to hear the rest of that sentence.”</p><p>“Anyway, Hermione, come dance with us, please!” Luna gripped Hermione’s arm before she had a chance to deject, and felt herself being swept away to the other side of the room where Pansy had resumed dancing to ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA.</p><p>Hermione wasn’t a dancer. She never was and never would be.</p><p>But did she let Luna grip her hands and dance with her? Yes. Of course she did, because she knew deep down this was <em>the calm before the storm.</em> Hermione knew deep down that the war was coming, and that she only had a few weeks left of this strange, fucked up freedom, before everything was ripped away from her.</p><p>She only had little time left to be a teenager. </p><p>So she danced and danced until her feet threatened to snap beneath her. She laughed with Pansy, Luna, Theo and Draco until her lungs began to hurt. And she even laughed with Blaise too, after he had begun to realise she was not <em>as</em> bad as he believed, and he threw a drunken arm around her shoulder when she and Luna had collapsed in a fit of giggles on the sofa.</p><p>Hermione knew to appreciate this. To appreciate the people she was with at this moment, because for all she knew, they might not be here much longer if things don’t go the way they all had planned. If things break and snap and people die—if everything crumbled beneath her. </p><p>Her mind kept telling her <em>if, </em>but her heart kept reminding her <em>when</em>.</p><p>She folded up the bad thoughts and pushed them to the back of her mind, trying to just enjoy the rest of her night before she had to wake up and face the fact everything was going to change in a matter of weeks.</p><p>And she didn’t know how long they all sat there, laughing at Pansy who was spinning in circles with Winky the elf, or how long they played magical card games that ended in Theo’s shirt catching on fire, or how long Luna sat with her head drunkenly thrown into her lap, her dreadlocks curling on her thighs, complaining that Pansy was <em>'too busy dancing with the elf to kiss her'</em>, or how long Blaise spoke to her and told her that he trusted her if Draco trusted her. Or how long she smiled for.</p><p>She didn’t know how long she sat watching Draco’s eyes wrack over her with his lip between his teeth and sweat on his brow, but she assumed it was at least three hours until he looked her way and pointed at his wristwatch, mouthing;</p><p>
  <em>‘Another hour down here, then you're all mine.’</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Thirty-Two.</h2></a>
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  <b>
    <span class="u">ROUGHLY FOUR CHAPTERS LEFT...</span>
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</p><p>Draco moved like a shark; strong, steady and full of divine hunger.</p><p>He circled Hermione like she was his prey–like she was made from the ocean and made from yearning, standing perfectly enticing for him and him only.</p><p>Hermione had found herself flush against the wall within the first five seconds of Draco pulling her into the bedroom.</p><p>“Do you know how long I’ve waited for you?” Draco breathed against her mouth, pulling her leg around his waist and grinding against her. “Do you know how long I've waited for this moment?”</p><p>Hermione whimpered when his mouth found her own, his tongue diving between her lips and licking against the roof of her mouth in the way he knew would make her knees weak.</p><p>“Then please,” She breathed into his mouth, “Please—just fuck—“</p><p>He pulled away from her lips and let his mouth fall against her neck, kissing and sucking at the skin on her throat with no prevail, with no patience or softness or leniency. He sucked her throat in the way she <em>craved</em>, full of hunger and vengeance and desperate lust for the taste of her skin.</p><p>She had made it clear on more than one occasion that she wouldn't have wanted <em>it</em> slow or soft, that she didn’t want him to dilly dally around the fact he was going to fuck her and make <em>her </em>feel good. And he knew that, he knew that she needed him and <em>him</em> only, he knew she wanted it rough and harsh, even if it was her first time.</p><p>“Merlin how was I meant to resist when you flounced around in this fucking dress,” He mumbled against her skin, hands coming to grip her waist, his fists balling in the satin fabric. “How was I meant to resist myself when you danced around like you were made of crystals and ice…”</p><p>He paused and sucked against her collarbone hard enough for her back to arch into him, desperate for every inch of his skin to be against her own.</p><p>“How was I meant to resist when all I could think about was how wet you got while sucking my cock?” He continued, teeth grazing over her throat. “Fuck, Hermione you drive me crazy…”</p><p>Her hands gripped at his white oxford shirt as he kissed and sucked her skin, her heat pressing deep against his clothed boner, which was rubbing against her underwear as the green dress bunched around his waist.</p><p>“Please, Draco…” She whimpered, tugging at his shirt so he pulled away and stared down at Hermione through his black, lustful eyes. “Take me.”</p><p>In one swift movement, Draco’s hands were on her ass and throwing her down against the bed so quickly she felt winded for a moment. Yet, she had no time to dwell, because Draco was knocking her thighs open and slotting himself between them, his hands strumming against her thighs with his nails.</p><p>“Tell me what you want, Hermione,” Draco said, staring down at her. She whined when he sank his nails deep into her thighs. Marking her. Branding her. Claiming his territory. “Tell me what you fucking want…”</p><p>“I—Draco—please…” She bucked her hips up towards him, watching how he smirked at her desperation. He used her thighs to pull her closer, close enough to feel the rough outline of his hard dick but not close enough to actually <em>feel </em>it where she needed it most. “Please...Draco…”</p><p>Draco hissed and wrapped a hand around her throat, bringing his face so close to hers she could taste whisky on her tongue.</p><p>“I <em>didn’t</em> tell you to mewl, did I?” Draco cocked his head to the side, brushing his nose against her own. The hold on her throat tightened, pressing her deep against the sheets beneath her. “Tell me what you fucking want, Hermione.”</p><p>She arched into him, feeling the fire blaze through her veins when his clothed dick pressed against where she needed him, and she desperately latched her hands onto his back to draw him closer.</p><p>But he only smirked, blazing his teeth at her in a hungry sneer. He picked her head up by her throat and kissed her ever so slightly to speak into her mouth.</p><p>“Hermione. Tell me what you <em>want</em>.” He spat, dropping her head back onto the pillow and moving his hand towards her chest, pulling the dress over it to expose her boobs. He groaned and attached his fingers to a nipple, smirking at the way she twitched beneath him.</p><p>“I want you to—“ How should she word this? Hermione had never had sex before, let alone sex with someone like <em>Draco Malfoy</em>. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing, she didn’t want to turn him off or make him cringe at her words. “Draco I—“</p><p>“Don’t be shy, Hermione.” He said, a little gentler this time, but still touching her in all the right places. “I want to hear what you want, I want to hear how you want it and how you want me to take you.”</p><p>She gulped down a moan when his free hand travelled down and rucked her dress higher, pressing his fingers against her wet heat between her legs. The way his eyebrows rose at her wetness injected her with confidence, lust and desperation.</p><p>“I want it rough—“ She said, gasping when his fingers pushed aside her knickers and circled against her clit, lapping up her wetness with buds of his fingers, “I want you to fuck me and make me scream…”</p><p>Apparently, Draco enjoyed hearing what she wanted, because he hummed and sunk his fingers into her hole. First just one, then when he was satisfied with the moan she gave, he sank another in, curling it deep inside and humming happily with she ran her nails down his back.</p><p>“Take your shirt off,” She begged, tugging at the clothing over his back. “I want to see all of you when you fuck me so hard that I’m screaming for you.”</p><p>“<em>You</em> take my shirt off, I’m a little preoccupied.” He hissed with a wink, pulling his fingers from her wetness just to slide them inside again with double the vengeance.</p><p>She obliged, drawing her hands from his back to his front and began to undo the buttons. She struggled to do so, her hands shook with the force of his fingers fucking her, stretching her out, but after a few moments, his shirt was on the floor. His naked torso was flooded in the candlelight, his scars glimmering in saffron glow before her eyes.</p><p>“I want you to rip me in half,” Hermione continued, head falling against the pillow beneath her as Draco pressed a thumb to her clit. “I want to know how good you feel inside of me.”</p><p>“Look at that,” Draco simpered, pulling his fingers out and licking them clean. He didn’t break eye contact once and Hermione felt as if she was going to explode. “The perfect Miss Hermione Granger, the shy, smart bookworm, so desperate to feel my cock inside of her…”</p><p>Hermione watched as he sucked his fingers completely clean, his eyes turning a smokey black. She watched him unbuckle his trousers and throw them onto the floor. She watched him pull his dick free and she watched his naked body glow beneath the light, engulfing every sharp curve of his chest, his jaw, his hips and thighs and hands. His hands which were now pushing Hermione's dress higher so he could stare down at her wet centre, his lips twitching at the sight of it.</p><p>“All wet for me,” Draco’s hands trailed down her thighs, pulling her even closer towards him until her ass hit his thighs. “Hermione?”</p><p>His voice was rather soft for a moment, his eyes full of seriousness and...<em>love</em>.</p><p>“If it hurts, tell me.” He said, running a tongue over his bottom lip as he caressed her thighs, making them twitch against his palms. “I’ll follow your stead, you want me to stop? I'll stop. If you want me to rip you in half? I’ll do so.”</p><p>Hermione nodded, watching carefully as his hands wandered from her tights to his dick, where he lapped up his precome and spread it across his length. She gulped, every inch of her body screaming for <em>something</em>, screaming for <em>him</em>.</p><p>“Please, <em>please</em> Draco—“ She groaned, wrapping a leg around his waist. He was on his knees between her thighs, and she was desperate to feel how this angle would make his dick feel inside of her. “I need you.”</p><p>“You're begging?” He raised a brow, leaning over her slightly and spitting, so it landed on Hermione’s clit, where he took a hand and rubbed it over her, making her even wetter for him to slide into. “Beg harder, go on, <em>beg</em> for it like the whore you want to be.”</p><p>He rubbed the tip of his dick up her slit, coating it in her wetness mixed with his spit, and chucked when she gasped and brought her hands to his back, digging her nails into the pale skin on it. He rubbed over her slowly, taunting every single nerve in her body, igniting her veins in freezing flames.</p><p>“Please fuck me, <em>please</em>!” She gasped, arching up for more pressure when his dick slapped against her clit, he only responded by putting more pressure where she needed it most. “Please, Draco...I’m so desperate for it…”</p><p>“For what?” He hissed, attaching one hand to her hip, guiding his dick to her entrance. “For <em>what</em>, Hermione?”</p><p>“Please!” She moaned, feeling the pressure of his girth at her entrance, so ready to fill her up. “I want you! I <em>need</em> you<em>!”</em></p><p>He slowly pressed into her, groaning at her tightness around him as he did so. It burned, and Hermione gasped and clung desperately to his back, her fingers finding their way into his white hair, tugging at it as he continued to press deeper inside of her.</p><p>“Merlin’s fuck, Hermione…” He groaned, pressing deeper still. She could feel him twitching inside of her, desperate to fuck her senseless. She knew he was restraining himself, “You really <em>are</em> a perfect little virgin-whore aren't you?”</p><p>Hermione could only moan in response, arching her hips up and taking the painful burn with greed, appreciating the way he felt inside of her for the first time. She was trying to dismiss the pain. Because the pain didn't matter, only the feeling of him slowly stretching her out, taking every flame of her innocence as he did so.</p><p>“Who knew your first cock would be <em>mine</em>?” He raised a brow which was slowly coating itself in his desperate sweat. “Does it hurt?”</p><p>Hermione bit her lip and looked up at him through heavy eyelids, pleasure and pain written in every seam of her face. She twerked her lips up and brought her hands from his hair to his jaw, pulling him down until his chest hit her own.</p><p>“It hurts in the best way,” She said truthfully, appreciating the way the new angle slid his dick further into her. She felt something rip and knew that the pain would now hopefully reside, which it soon did. “Fuck, Draco, please—“</p><p>He kissed her, pressing his tongue into her mouth and swallowing her shallow whimpering. He began to thrust into her, one hand beside her head and one on her hip, pulling at her waist to reach the deepest parts of her.</p><p>There was definitely no pain now, just pleasure. Just the feeling of his dick stretching her out and hitting a spot inside of her which made her back arch, her neck bending against the pillow.</p><p>His head dropped to her neck, sucking at the spot beneath her jawline, coating it in purple heart-shaped bruises.</p><p>“Does that feel fucking good?” He growled, panting against her skin as her fingers dropped into his hair again. “Tell me how good my cock feels stretching you out…”</p><p>Hermione's head rolled sideways where her gaze fell over the moonlit window, she watched the warm may sky twinkle with yellow stars, and felt as if she was falling into a state of euphoria. Draco’s lips continued to attack her neck, grunting against her throat as he continued to work inside of her, pressing his hips against her so quickly that nothing but the sound of skin slapping and moaning filled the room.</p><p>“It feels so good, Draco, your cock is so big…” Hermione moaned, tugging his hair. “It feels so fucking good, so good…”</p><p>Draco smirked against her throat before pulling himself up. At the same time, he brought his hands to her thighs and lifted her so her heat was flush against his pubic bone and his dick was thrusting into her in such a way that made her start to scream.</p><p>“You like that?” He asked, going completely still inside of her so that the tip of his dick was pressing against her cervix, making her thighs tremble against his waist. “You like the feeling of my cock stretching you out? hm?”</p><p>“Please—“ She gasped, rutting up against him for more pressure, desperate for him to start moving again. "Feels so good..."</p><p>Yet, he only smirked, grasping her throat and digging his nails into the skin on the back of her head, right beneath her curls.</p><p>“Please <em>what</em>?” He growled, deepening his length so that she gasped and threw her head backwards, relishing in the way the grip on her neck felt. “Tell me, how does the Mudblood want to be <em>fucked?”</em></p><p>“Hard!” Hermione said through a mewl as he pulled his length entirely free from her walls and slammed it back in again with double the force than he had before. “I want your cock so badly... please fuck me hard.”</p><p>“Will you come all over my cock for me, Hermione?” Draco asked, breathy and strained. Hermione felt him twitching inside of her as he began to move again. The new angle was hitting against a spot inside of her that made her scream, and she could already feel the pressure building up inside of her stomach. “Will you clench your tight cunt over my cock while you come for me?”</p><p>His hand had now moved to her boobs, one flicking her nipple and the other continuing down to her centre that was slapping against his public bone so loudly it rang throughout the room. He pressed two fingers against her clit, circling it around as he pressed into her at such a pace the bed was hitting the wall behind it, but Hermione couldn’t find it in her to care if anybody heard.</p><p>All she could care about was the way Draco was looking down at her with smoke in his eyes. His gaze paced from her face to their joined centres, back and forth, back and forth. He was seemingly enjoying the way her mouth was agape, muttering his name over and over and over and his fingers fucked against her clit.</p><p>“Yes!“ She groaned, clenching around him in a way that made him hiss. “I’ll come, please—“</p><p>“Fucking come, then,” He gnarled, slapping her clit with his fingers and making her gasp before rotating them on her bud once more. “God, you’re so perfect, taking my cock like this…”</p><p>She was bucking up into his touch as he fucked her, relishing in the flames that ran through her.</p><p>Then without warning, he spat onto her centre and rubbed it into her clit as his cock filled her walls, and she came.</p><p>And Oh Merlin did it feel immense, better than any orgasm she had ever had previously. Coming around his length was different from coming on his fingers, or on his mouth.</p><p>Hermione watched his mouth fall agape when she clenched around him, her entire body throbbing with the orgasm he had given to her. Her body shook, her back arching and a moan she could not control ringing from her mouth.</p><p>“That’s it, that's it, good girl…” He muttered, continuing to fuck her through her orgasm. “Such a good slut, aren’t you?”</p><p>When it came crashing down, her body growing weak and worn and satisfied, she could only smirk and glance up at him.</p><p>“Come inside of me.” She said, fuelled with some sort of sexual confidence she never thought she could have before. “I want you to fill me up, Draco...please.”</p><p>He grabbed her throat again and used it to lower his chest against her own, then replaced his hand with his mouth.</p><p>“You want me to come inside of you?” He breathed against her skin, grazing his teeth against her throat ever so slightly. “Say it again, Hermione, what do you want me to do?”</p><p>Hermione continued to grab his hair, tangling the white strands in her fingers, emitting a hiss from his mouth. “Come inside of me, <em>please, </em>Draco.”</p><p>“Fuck Hermione!” He gasped, his thrusts becoming slowed and ragged. She could feel him twitching inside of her, ready to fill her up any second. “God—you’re so perfect, aren’t you? So good taking—fuck—my cock.”</p><p>“Feels so good…” Hermione mewled into his ear, clenching around him over and over. “Draco, please, come, please.”</p><p>“Fuck—I’m coming—“ He gasped, and she felt him spilling inside of her, his hands tugging her hair desperately as his orgasm took over. “Fuck—Hermione—Fuck I love you—“</p><p>And then he collapsed on top of her, doing nothing but bringing his lips to her own and kissing her until neither of them could breathe.</p><p>—</p><p>Three days went past, bringing spells of sunshine as May began to ride through. It felt somewhat strange, knowing that the world was about to crumble yet it could be so bright, so warm and happy and...hopeful at the exact same time.</p><p>Hermione tried to rid her bad thoughts. She focused solely on Draco. She spent her days with him, really <em>with </em>him, taking as much of him as she could get, because deep down she was worried that it may all be over sooner than she had really begun to accept.</p><p>Today, she left him sleeping in their bed. His body was curled into a ball, his blonde hair swept back against his forehead exposing the brittle lines of worry above his eyebrows. Before she left the room, she pressed three kisses to the wrinkles and watched them fade before leaving. He didn’t wake but simply stirred and curled into the blanket like it was made of the clouds.</p><p>Hermione headed towards the room she had now coined ‘<em>The Art Room.’</em> It was a floor up, and Hermione continued to ignore the brittle hissing of the portraits around her, taunting her and muttering things beneath their breaths.</p><p>She met Winky on her descent, who happily yelled back at the portraits in defence of Hermione, and left her in the middle of the stairway jabbing a small wrinkling finger at a portrait of an ancient Black family member who bored long raven braids and a long crooked nose.</p><p>As expected, Luna was sat in the art room. She was sitting with her back to the door, her petite body happily resting on a dusty stool as she carefully painted a portrait before her eyes. On closer inspection, Hermione could see it was in fact a self-portrait, carefully made with tawny oil-paint and saffron oil-paint for the hair.</p><p>From the doorway, Hermione thought Luna looked like the sun. The large open window was gloating the entire room in a bright clarion, which fell over Luna’s body which was dawned in beige trousers and a blue sweater, thus making her glow as if she was made from sol, or fire or saffron or summer ice. Maybe all of these things at once.</p><p>“You’re still painting?” Hermione asked as she closed the door behind her.</p><p>“Oh!” Luna gasped, putting a hand against her chest and spinning around on the stool. “You scared the life out of me, Hermione!”</p><p>Luna tucked her paintbrush behind her ear, not seeming to care that it smudged blue paint along her hairline, and stood from her seat.</p><p>“Well, I’ve been trying to get all the portraits done, just so they are complete.” Luna shrugged. She grabbed Hermione’s hand and guided her towards the window.</p><p>Beneath the window, soaking in a large basin filled with the enchanted lilac potion, was four completed portraits. One of herself, with a bright smile on her face and her hazel eyes beginning to blink slowly. Beside it, Draco, with his white hair and his usual bitchy sneer on his face. There was one of Theo and Blaise in the same frame, staring at each other with friendly frowns. But beside that, was the most beautiful portrait Hermione had ever seen.</p><p>It was of Pansy. Luna had clearly painted it with the utmost concentration because every detail in Pansy’s face was absolute. It had been painted a week prior, Hermione assumed, when Pansy had curled the ends of her black hair and put on dark green eyeliner, which was almost the exact same colour as the paint used for her eyes, but with less life and sheen to it.</p><p>“That’s beautiful, Luna.” Hermione gawked, letting herself fall to the floor and crossed her legs to inspect the portraits with more vengeance. “Pansy looks...amazing…”</p><p>Luna smiled and fell onto the floor beside her, also staring down at the portrait as if she had never seen anything more beautiful.</p><p>“It took me the longest, respectfully, of course,” Luna said, glancing across at Hermione with a small smile ridden on her lips. “I wanted to capture every essence of her face, you know, just in case—anyway, she should be back from the Manor today, they’ve been gone longer than expected…”</p><p>Hermione sighed, remembering that Theo and Pansy had left three days prior for their meeting with the Dark Lord and not yet returned. Deep down she knew why, he was preparing–he would want all of his disciples herded and ready for battle.</p><p>“You haven’t finished your own portrait yet,” Hermione noted, pointing up at the portrait sitting half-finished on the easel. “It’s beautiful already, though.”</p><p>“Well, I can finish my own whenever, because I won’t—“ She paused, and looked awfully sad for a moment. “I won’t forget my own face, will I?”</p><p>Hermione knew what she meant by that. She had to swallow to stop the bile rising in her throat, and shook her head to try and rid the images of crimson running through her mind on a reel.</p><p>“Listen to me, Luna.” Hermione started, grabbing her friends hand and squeezing her fingers. “Do you know how much you’ve done for <em>all</em> of us?”</p><p>Luna cocked her head to the side like a puppy, her eyes filling with the sunlight, swarming inside of her pupils like blazing fire.</p><p>“If it wasn’t for <em>you</em>, then Draco would have been caught. He could have <em>died</em>...not to mention Theo and Pansy...you…” Hermione paused and gave Luna’s hand another squeeze. “You gave Pansy hope, you gave her <em>love. </em>You’ve helped all of us and you still continue to help.”</p><p>Two small teardrops fell down Luna’s cheeks, glistening against her warm skin. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.</p><p>“I didn’t mean to inject myself into everyone’s business. I’ve felt so guilty about it for so long that I...I….” Luna took a deep breath. “I felt so <em>nosey</em>, I felt so stupid and annoying and I wanted to just leave and let everyone–but Pansy…”</p><p>Luna trailed off, shaking her head in some sort of disbelief.</p><p>“You love her, don’t you?” Hermione asked, squeezing her eyes to stop the tears from spilling over.</p><p>“Yes. I think I do.” Luna nodded. “And you love Draco, don’t you? I’ve seen the way you look at him, as if he’s the only person in the world.”</p><p>“For a long time, he <em>was</em> the only person in my world. We spent months alone, first in that stupid hotel then in the boathouse and then in Southwark. It was always just <em>me </em>and <em>him</em>. Nobody else.” Hermione said, feeling her hands beginning to shake. “I do love him. And people are going to be angry at me for that, Harry and Ron and Ginny and the others. They are going to hate me for a while, but I can’t help falling in love, can I?”</p><p>“That wand changed your life, Hermione,” Luna told her, the sad daze in her eyes being replaced by determination. “If it wasn’t for that wand, if it wasn’t for Regulus Black or Draco Malfoy, you’d be all alone, possibly at the bottom of the Black Lake, wouldn’t you?”</p><p>Hermione nodded, opening her mouth to speak but Luna continued.</p><p>“So don’t <em>ever</em> feel guilty for who you fell in love with. Don’t <em>ever</em> feel guilty for not being there with Harry and Ron when it was <em>your</em> job to find that Horcrux wand, do you hear me?”</p><p>Hermione felt a tear running down her face, sliding down her throat and settling into her collarbone, right on top of the heart-shaped bruise Draco had created days prior.</p><p>“I hear you, Luna.” Hermione nodded. “Thank you.”</p><p>Luna only smiled, pulling Hermione towards her and wrapping her arms around her waist.</p><p>“Miss Hermione Granger,” Luna said into her curls, “Thank you for everything.”</p><p>Hermione hugged her until her arms went numb. She hugged her until all she could smell was the tangerine perfume coming from Luna’s clothing, she hugged her until they both stopped crying and until everything felt <em>right.</em></p><p>But, everything wasn’t right. And they had no time to laugh or frolic and act like kids in the art room, because the door was thrown open so roughly that it smacked against the wall and shattered, followed by Pansy who stumbled in with blood pouring from a gash on her eyebrow and her black robes torn in several places.</p><p>Hermione and Luna both jumped to their feet, and Hermione felt a chill of ice running through her veins at the look in Pansy's eyes.</p><p>It was fear.</p><p>“Luna—“ Pansy gasped, rushing over and wrapping her arms around her body so tightly Hermione thought Luna was going to snap in two. “Are you okay? Hermione? Okay you're both okay—I don’t have long here I have to go back—oh god—“</p><p>“What happened?” Hermione and Luna asked in unison as Pansy finally pulled away from Luna’s grip.</p><p>Pansy gulped, her eyes filling with tears.</p><p>“   nThe Dark Lord is heading to Hogwarts <em>tomorrow</em>.”</p><p>—</p><p>A few hours later, Hermione found herself inside of Draco’s arms in the attic.</p><p>It felt like everything had come crashing down on top of her like a wave of pain, coating her in fear and dismay. In just the three hours since Pansy had arrived back, everything had fucking changed.</p><p>And Hermione had been expecting this, she <em>had, </em>but she didn’t expect all of this to happen so <em>quickly. </em>Because now, Luna was gone. Pansy had practically forced her to go back to her father and begged her to stay there and made her promise she would not come to the battle. Because Pansy was afraid Luna would get hurt, she was afraid that Luna was going to try and save her, but all Pansy wanted was for Luna to stay safe at home with some tea and a book.</p><p>Hermione had a feeling that wouldn’t happen.</p><p>And Blaise had gone too, back to Andromeda and taken a protesting Winky with him. He promised to join them tomorrow, he promised to arrive and help, but deep down Hermione was hoping he wouldn’t. Because she wanted him safe too.</p><p>Theo had remained at the manor, being guided by The Dark Lord on his evil plans for tomorrow, he did not have such an excuse to escape like Pansy did, even if she was only free for two hours. </p><p>She was back there now, being prepared for <em>war</em> at a school they both called home.</p><p>The school she had run away from in the snow, a day after she had tried to end all her fear in the Black Lake. But there was so escaping it, there was no drowning in the Black Lake or hiding out in wonky hotels eating toast and jam. There was no hiding from the war that was always destined to arrive.</p><p>Maybe it was set in stone she’d always end up there. Back at the place she had feared to see destroyed.</p><p>Deep down she knew it. Deep down, she had always known it.</p><p>“Are you ready for this?” Draco asked, pulling her out of her scared daze.</p><p>She turned in his arms, glancing up at his face. His face was etched with concern, fear and worry. She knew why, she knew he wouldn’t let her go alone, she knew that no matter what, he was going to be there. Even if she didn’t want him to be, because she was scared.</p><p>Hermione didn't know what she would do without him. She didn’t know what she would do if anything happened to him because she had led him to the battle.</p><p>“I’m not scared of battle,” Hermione said, taking in every single inch of his face in case she ever forgot it. “I’m scared of pain. Not my own—Harry and Ron’s. Yours. Luna and Pansy's. Everyone's.”</p><p>Draco nodded and threaded a hand through her hair, cupping her head where the curve of her skull was, kneading his fingers into her scalp.</p><p>“You know that it’s destiny you have to go, don’t you?” Draco said, pressing his lips to her temple. “Even though I would do anything to keep you here, wrapped up and safe, you have to see the end, you have to watch The Dark Lord die more than anyone else.”</p><p>He paused, keeping his lips against her temple while he continued.</p><p>“No matter <em>what</em> happens, I’ll be proud of you, you know that, right? This year...this life...it’s thrown some curveballs at us, hasn’t it?” Draco sighed, his breath ghosting her face. “If you told me back in November I’d have spent these months with <em>you</em>, falling in <em>love </em>with Hermione fucking Granger, I would have laughed, but I’m more than grateful that Luna took me to that fucked up hotel, you know.”</p><p>He paused again, giving Hermione no time to respond because he let out a small chuckle and pulled something from his pocket.</p><p>“Look what I found yesterday,” He held it towards her, and when it caught the light, Hermione knew exactly what it was.</p><p>The blade Bellatrix had thrown at them the day they left the hotel—shimmering green beneath the light soaring in from the window on the slanted attic ceiling.</p><p>“It reminded me of the past.” Draco sighed as he placed it into Hermione’s hands. “It reminded me that we’ve got through <em>this much, </em>we can get through whatever is thrown at us tomorrow.”</p><p>Hermione nodded and slid the blade into her pocket. She felt the cool blade sinking into her skin, branding her with hope. Because Draco was right, wasn't he? They could get through anything. Maybe if she had enough hope, it would come true.</p><p>“Thank you,” Hermione gave a small smile and turned to press a kiss to Draco’s lips, savouring the taste of his mouth. “I’m scared.”</p><p>Draco kissed her again. “I know, I’m scared too.”</p><p>“We should leave in the morning to get there before The Dark Lord arrives. We’ve agreed to meet Pansy and Theo in the Great Hall, so we’ll get there early and try to explain—“ She gestured between the two of them. “—this. <em>Us</em>, to everyone who isn't them.”</p><p>He simply nodded, a sigh escaping his mouth. “We will leave in the morning, then.”</p><p>“And how will we get there?” Hermione asked, her voice becoming sad.</p><p>Draco laughed and shook his head. “Your wand, of course. If it can apparate us out of the manor, it can apparate us to Hogwarts, I'm sure.”</p><p>
  <em>Right. Of course.</em>
</p><p>“What if your father is there?” Hermione asked tentatively, threading her fingers through his own and curling into his chest. “What will you do?”</p><p>“If I have to torture the truth out of him, I will.” Draco gulped, his body going stiff. “He must know what happened to my Mother. There must be a reason why he lied about her death.”</p><p>“Is that why you don’t have a patronus?” Hermione asked carefully, resting her head on his shoulder. “Because she was the only person who made you happy, and she was torn away from you?”</p><p>Draco let out a breathy laugh.</p><p>“I’ve never had a patronus, Hermione.” He shook his head and squeezed her fingers. “But I imagine it’s something grand, like a wolf or a dragon…”</p><p>“What if it’s a lion?” Hermione asked, laughing ever so slightly. “I have a snake, what if you have a lion?”</p><p>Hermione thought she had never seen a sneer so vicious cross his face. “I would rather have a wood mouse than a fucking lion, Hermione, you couldn’t catch me being anything like a stupid Gryffindor.”</p><p>Hermione jumped to her feet, stumbling against the dirty floorboards with a bright smile on her face, trying to muster up all of the happiness she had left.</p><p>“Let’s find out!” Hermione yelled, pulling her wand from her pocket. “Let’s...let’s see what animal you’d have, if you <em>can—“</em></p><p>“Hermione I—I don’t know…” Draco pulled himself to his feet and joined her where she had stumbled by the table at the far corner of the attic. “What if I can’t?”</p><p>“Well, do you have a happy memory you could think of?” Hermione asked, raising a brow. “That’s all you really need to muster your patronus, happy memories and <em>strength</em>.”</p><p>Draco stared down at her, his lips twitching. “I have a few <em>now</em>, I guess.”</p><p>“What are they?” Truthfully, she was curious. While she knew they’d be memories with her, she wasn’t sure <em>which</em> memories they would be. And like always, Hermione was nosey. </p><p>“Well, one would be when you sucked my dick,” He smirked, “The other when I gave you Dark Chocolate on the bridge of the boathouse.”</p><p>Like a drum, Hermione's heart began to pound. She had completely forgotten about little details like that, because she had tried to block out the most negative of memories when it came to Draco. The boathouse was mostly negative, a dark time filled with negative energy and death.</p><p>So why that? Why did he remember that?</p><p>“And you’re probably wondering <em>why</em>, aren’t you?” He quirked a brow, pulling his own wand from his pocket and spinning it in his slender fingers. She nodded. “As I’ve told you before, I like the sea. At that moment, we were looking out at the sea, side by side—and I, well, when I gave you that chocolate, I looked into your eyes and realised you were <em>different</em>.”</p><p>He cleared his throat as if he was embarrassed and spoke before she could even think about teasing him.</p><p>“Right, how do I do this shit then?”</p><p>Rolling her eyes, she brought her wand into the air, showing him the correct wand movement. “Close your eyes, and think of that happy memory, <em>really</em> think about it. Admit to yourself <em>why</em> you chose that memory, let it overthrow all your senses, and whisper the enchantment.”</p><p>He gave her a skeptical look, but brought his wand into the air in the same way she did anyway.</p><p>Hermione watched carefully as he closed his eyes and muttered the enchantment, but nothing but a small wisp of smoke emitted from the tip of his wand, dissolving into dust.</p><p>“This won’t work, Hermione.” He sighed, rolling his eyes. “There’s no poi—“</p><p>“There <em>is </em>a point, Draco. You can do it, you just need to let the happiness <em>consume </em>you. No pretending. Let it <em>sink </em>into your bones, here, watch.”</p><p>Hermione closed her eyes, raised her wand and let the happiness memory she had ever had run through her brain, over and over on a loop until she felt it sinking into her veins.</p><p>
  <em>"Where are we?" Hermione noticed the mist that fell from her mouth as she spoke. The cold had embraced her like a tight hug but she hadn't taken a moment to notice.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Southwark." Draco's voice was short. His breath seemed staggered, like he was nervous. "In London."</em>
</p><p>“Expecto Patronum.” Her voice was a mere whisper through the smile that had crossed her face at the thought of her arriving in Southwark with Draco, and she opened them to see her silver snake swirling around the room as if it was on a hunt for prey.</p><p>“This is harder than it looks and you know it, Hermione!” He hissed, but closed his eyes anyway.</p><p>He was silent for a moment, unmoving. After several seconds, Hermione saw a small smirk etching onto his face, and then he was whispering the enchantment through a smile that had spread across his entire face.</p><p>“Expecto Patronum...”</p><p>This time, more than a small wisp of smoke evolved from the tip of his wand. Instead, a long string of silverish blue, swirling in smoke like circles, dancing around the small attic which then took the form of a small, translucent blue Otter.</p><p>An Otter.</p><p>“As fucking if!” Hermione gasped, watching the Otter begin to swim around the room, chasing the snake in swirling circles of silver. “Draco—“</p><p>“You’re old patronus?” He raised a brow. “I’m not going to lie I’m not severely annoyed it’s not a wolf or a—“</p><p>“But you did it, Draco.” Hermione interrupted him, trying to repress her smile.</p><p>“It’s very…” He watched the Otter continue to chase around the snake as if it was asking to play, the snake merely paid it no attention, and continued on its glimmering hunt. “Cute?”</p><p>He paused.</p><p>“I can’t help but feel—“ He paused again, his eyes not once leaving his new animal protector. “—That taking your old patronus must...mean something?”</p><p>“Maybe it just means you’re cute.” Hermione nudged him playfully.</p><p>As Draco opened his mouth to retort, another voice broke against it, interrupting him.</p><p>Both Draco and Hermione’s eyes ran towards the voice, which was once again coming from the portrait that was leaning against the wall on the floor.</p><p>“Oh, it definitely means <em>something</em>,” Narcissa spoke, her oil-painted eyes blinking happily. “There’s an old saying in the Black Family—“</p><p>Draco shot Hermione a tentative stare, his body going stiff at the sound of his mother’s voice once more, just as it had last time.</p><p>Narcissa’s portrait cleared her throat and spoke so loudly Hermione flinched.</p><p><em>“The Green Pit Viper will not subdue to the Otter, as it is kind and represents goodness, but if the Viper allows it to ride on its tail, it means it has fallen in love with the Otter’s integrity.” </em>Narissa smiled and continued. "The Viper represents the Black family, who have always been known for their darkness and hatred, and the Otter represents the families fear–goodness."</p><p>And sure enough, when Hermione looked back at the transparent animals floating through the attic, the Otter was laying on the Viper’s tail, floating as if they were one.</p><p>—</p><p>That night, Hermione dreamt of Hogwarts.</p><p>Not the Hogwarts she expected to see when she arrived there in a few hours. Not the Hogwarts that would be broken after the battle.</p><p>She dreamt of Hogwarts as it was years ago. She dreamt of Hogwarts how it was the day she arrived when she was eleven, with its beautiful brick turrets and stone archways and the moving staircases.</p><p>She dreamt she was twelve and running down the halls, her oversized robes dragging along the stone floor, with Harry and Ron in her wake. Yet, Draco was with them, his blonde hair flowing in the wind that passed through it as he ran, a bright smile on his face.</p><p>Then, she dreamt that she was sixteen and was with Draco, Luna, Pansy, Theo, Blaise, Ginny and Harry and Ron all sat by the lake in the summer, laughing as multicoloured fish jumped out from the waterbed. Draco’s hands were intertwined with her own, rubbing the skin on her knuckles with his thumb. Teenage love type of things.</p><p>Then her sixteen-year-old face faded to her eighteen-year-old face, sitting in her family dining room with Draco, her mother and father, all eating an English breakfast and laughing as Draco stuck his nose up at the black pudding. His ankle was intertwined with her own in the gap between their chairs. Her parents took a liking to Draco and coined him as their new son. She was happy, she was more than fucking happy.</p><p>When she woke, she was reminded of the cruel bitter reality that today would bring. She was reminded that she had not spent her childhood in complete happiness, with those she loved the most. She had spent her childhood worrying about a <em>monster</em>, someone who was set out for blood and vengeance and terror, all because of a boy named Harry Potter. A boy that Hermione would always call her best friend, no matter what.</p><p>She thought about it while she slid into her clothes. She thought about it while she brushed her teeth and smoothed her hair. She thought about it when Draco pulled her into a soul-crushing hug and told her that he loved and would always love her.</p><p>She thought about it while she walked the halls of Grimmauld Place, silently saying goodbye to her childhood. She thought about it when she entered the art room and saw Luna’s half-painted portrait sitting in the morning sun. She thought about it when Draco took her hand and led her out into the street, his fingers grasping her own so tightly she felt as if she was going to be sick.</p><p>And she was scared.</p><p>She had never been this scared in her life.</p><p>All she could think about was <em>life. </em>All she could think about was the fact that everything was about to change, and that everything was now torn and broken. That everything had already changed in ways she could have never imagined.</p><p>All she could think about was the fact she was eighteen years old and heading to war hand in hand with someone that everybody loathed for all the wrong reasons.</p><p>“Listen to me, Hermione,” Draco whispered, turning to her as they reached the bottom of the stairway and landed on the cobblestone street. “Are you ready to do this? If you want to cancel this, and stay here until the war is done we can.”</p><p>“Regulus told me that <em>a time will come where the choice between life and death stands with this wand,</em>” Hermione said, holding her wand up in the air and sucking every inch of power and hope she could from its contents. “I need to do this, Draco.”</p><p>"I have something for you." He said, his voice drawn and pained. "Give me your wrist and close your eyes."</p><p>She obliged and felt him clasping something cold around her wrist, his fingers lingering on her skin for moments afterwards like he was afraid to let go.</p><p>"Okay, all done."</p><p>When she opened her eyes and looked down at her wrist, she nearly cried. </p><p>A silver bracelet, its clasp engraved with a small ornate snake. </p><p>The exact silver bracelet she had looked at in the market in Greenwich, the day everything became insane–the day she had destroyed the locket without even knowing it. Her heart felt as if it was exploding, twisting and ripping in several places with foreign grief. She felt sick. She felt so sick with fear–but more than fear, she was sick with anger. An anger that was edging her on to just end everything. To end the war. To get her life back to where it needed to be.</p><p>"From Greenwich?" She breathed, swallowing a lump in her throat.</p><p>"Don't dwell on it, please." He said through a laugh. "I've been hiding it so I could give it to you at the perfect moment. Just wear it and think of me if things go wrong, okay?"</p><p>She nodded and felt him press a kiss to her forehead, his hands wrapping around her neck and holding her for two long, painful moments. Pulling away from his warmth physically hurt. It burned every inch of her skin because as she pulled away, all she could comprehend was that she was pulling away from all of the memories she had created since she had found Draco at the wonky hotel in the middle of winter.</p><p>All of the fights, all of the times he had pushed her against the walls and grabbed her face and sunk his nails into her skin. But all of the discovering too, like finding Regulus’ wand and working with him to put the pieces together. And then all of the love. Hermione had never been in <em>love </em>before. Especially not with someone like Draco Malfoy.</p><p>But she was.</p><p>And she would always be—no matter what happened in the next twenty-four hours.</p><p>“Let’s just hope our suspicions are correct and that wand can apparate us into Hogwarts,” Draco said, finally dropping his arms from her neck and stepping backwards. She felt empty without his warmth. “The great hall, right?”</p><p>Hermione nodded. “Yes, the great hall, hopefully, we can meet up with the others quickly.”</p><p>And then, like she had been thrown back three months, Hermione watched as Draco waved his wand, seconds later, his hair, and she assumed her own, turned pitch black.</p><p>“For old times sake, Rose.” He held out his arm, and she took it.</p><p>“For old times sake, Anchor.”</p><p>They disappeared with a crack.</p><p>-</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Thirty-Three.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">Warning–Mentions of death in this chapter. </span>
  </b>
</p><p><b><span class="u">Reminder,  this is a fanfic, the battle is different than it is in the original books</span></b>. </p><p>The world span before her eyes for what felt like multiple, painfully slow hours. Yet, she knew it was only a mere few seconds before the spinning stopped and she felt her feet smack the cold, stone ground.</p><p>Hermione knew the apparition into the great hall had worked before she had even opened her eyes. The sound of hushed talking which had turned deathly silent became rather apparent and she could smell the old, ragged stone, the worn parchment and the smell of the summer rain against the grand, stained-glass windows that surrounded the Great Hall.</p><p>And yet the strongest smell was the stink of iron, thick like fog, coating the inside of her eyes with the vision of blood. It made her scared to even open her eyes and take a look at what could have been happening around her.</p><p>The only thing keeping her knees from giving way was the familiar palm on her forearm, which dropped down to grasp her hand. She wondered for a moment if Draco’s heart was pounding, if his throat was closing in on itself and if his lungs felt as if they had been penetrated by shards of ice.</p><p>Because that’s exactly everything she was feeling right then.</p><p>“Hermione?”</p><p>She knew that voice. <em>Oh</em>, she knew that voice all too well. The voice was pained, it was confused and half-dazed and...different. But she <em>knew </em>it. It was something familiar, something that reminded her of the life she had before she ran away from the school.</p><p>She opened her eyes and saw a bundle of red hair running towards her. Hermione hardly had the chance to look around, but she quickly deciphered the smell of blood was coming from a blazing gash running down Ginny’s eye, staining her purple jumper. She could see Neville, Seamus and Dean standing by the grand oak doors. Hermione purposely didn’t let her eyes linger on them, because she could see the confusion in their eyes as they looked at her, back to Draco, back to her. Over and over again in the mere few seconds that felt like six hours.</p><p>They weren’t alone, of course. There were over fifty people all huddled into the Great Hall, littering it in a smog of fear. Students, teachers and even owls and cats and toads. </p><p>For a moment Hermione thought Ginny was going to hug her, but when she was less than a foot away, she stilled and cocked her head to the side.</p><p>Hermione saw her reaching into her pocket for her wand.</p><p>“Hermione?” She asked again, her eyes looking down at her hand, which was intertwined with Draco’s. She was clinging onto him for dear life. “What—why is your hair like <em>that</em>? Why are you with—“</p><p>Hermione could feel the students staring at her. She could feel the expectant and confused glances coming from the teachers. She heard the familiar voice of Professor Slughorn muttering <em>“Merlin! Is that the Malfoy boy?”</em></p><p>“Ginny,” Hermione breathed, her lungs finally allowing her to gasp for air. “Oh my god Ginny—“</p><p>“Hermione,” Ginny said again, keeping her voice flat and monotone. Yet, Hermione could see the confusion and the hint of fear running through her eyes. “Don’t fucking tell me you—“</p><p>When Ginny paused and bound her hands into fists, Seamus and Dean were at her side, staring at the pair of them with the same baffled expressions. Seamus bore a face of hatred, glaring at Draco, who surprisingly, was being rather still and calm, doing nothing but sneering and running his thumb across Hermione’s knuckles.</p><p>“She’s a traitor!” Seamus spat, lurching into his pocket for his wand, but before he even had a chance to point it towards them, Draco had stepped forward and wrapped his hand around it, yanking it from the Irishman’s grip.</p><p>“Careful, Seamus.” Draco spat, dropping the wand to the floor with a hollow thud.</p><p>“Is it true?” Ginny asked, voice wavering. “That's where you’ve been all this time? With <em>him? </em>With the <em>Death-Eaters?”</em></p><p>Hermione had expected this. The confusion, the torment, the abhorrence. But how was she meant to explain it? How was she meant to sum up everything that had happened? It looked fishy, of course it did–Hermione <em>had</em> disappeared for six months and returned with black hair, a new wand made from a Horcrux and landed in the hall hand in hand with someone who bore the dark mark.</p><p>If she was in Ginny’s shoes, she would probably be angry too.</p><p>“Ginny, I swear I can explain!” Hermione said, tightening her grip on Draco's hand and tugging him back towards her so he’d stop looming over Seamus like he was about to throttle him. “I—“</p><p>“What’s there to explain, Hermione?” Ginny laughed bitterly, wiping a hand over her eyebrow to clear away the blood that was spilling into the white of her eye. “You disappeared with no fucking explanation and return with Draco Malfoy?”</p><p>“He’s not—“</p><p>“You're telling me we’ve all had to endure the abuse from the Carrows—“ She pointed to the slash on her face and to the blood spilling from Dean’s ear. “—While you’ve been fraternising with the enemy? And for <em>what?”</em></p><p>Ginny shot Draco a sneer that was full of so much disgust it made Hermione’s insides twinge. Before Hermione could respond, Draco spoke.</p><p>“If it wasn’t for your brother and his speccy twat of a friend, Hermione wouldn’t have <em>needed</em> to seek my company for—“ He paused and smiled sarcastically. “Nevermind, actually, if you are going to act like this, we shouldn’t even spare you an explanation.”</p><p>“Show us your arm!” Seamus spat, jabbing his finger towards Hermione, yet still too afraid to repossess his wand that was sitting on the ground. “Hermione! Show us!”</p><p>Hermione laughed, not quite believing the words that came out of her friend's mouths. They were literally going to battle within the next few hours and refused to believe her. Refused to trust her. She knew it would’ve been hard, she knew it would have been difficult to understand, but it was a <em>war. </em>A war needed trust, a war needed loyalty and friendship and warmth.</p><p>Hermione went to lift her sleeve, but Draco placed a hand on her forearm and wrapped his fingers around it.</p><p>“Don’t.” He said, looking down at her with softness running through his eyes. “Don’t let them see the real scar you have garnered from the pain <em>you</em> have been through. Don’t let them make you feel as if you are wrong, as if you are evil.”</p><p>“Ginny, I swear it. I swear to Merlin that I have not betrayed you. There’s a reason I was gone, one I will explain when all of <em>this </em>is completely <em>over, </em>and we are all safe.” Hermione said, stepping closer to Ginny and placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m here to end this fight, Ginny. I’m here to end it all, I just need to know where Harry and Ron are, and then we can—“</p><p>“You said that before, in the letter, that you <em>had </em>to leave, that you had some job to do, but you haven’t exactly said what it was...Hermione this, this doesn’t add up—I’m so confused.” Ginny placed her hand on top of Hermione’s, squeezing her fingers in a way that tore Hermione’s conscience. Was it a squeeze of anger, or a squeeze of anger? </p><p>Opening her mouth, Ginny seemingly went to continue, with what words, Hermione couldn’t be sure, because Neville had arrived at her shoulder.</p><p>“Hello, Hermione. I like the new hair.” He said, a small smile playing on his lips. “But, I must ask you, everyone seems to be wondering—“</p><p>He gestured around at the prying eyes that had not left the situation in the middle of the great hall.</p><p>“How did you do <em>that! </em>How did you apparate into the school? You cannot—“ He paused, looked at Draco and then back at Hermione. “I’ve heard Death-Eaters can apparate into the school because Snape has dropped the wards—“</p><p>Draco scoffed. Hermione knew he was desperately trying to repress all of the animosity rising in his chest, wanting to spill out in continuous angry rants. She could feel his anger, his madness, his annoyance that her friends weren’t <em>listening </em>to her. But he was as silent as he could be. She knew he feared speaking over her, or making things worse <em>for her.</em></p><p>“We could apparate into the school because of her <em>wand.” </em>Draco huffed, crossing his arms over his chest which tugged at his white shirt. “Oh, yes, it’s a long story—“</p><p>He leaned towards and dropped his voice an octave.</p><p>“But long story short, her wand is made out of a Horcrux and also has the ability to <em>destroy </em>the Horcruxes we believe speccy and ginger have possession of—“ He paused and watched the shocked expressions fall over the faces in front of them. “—So, if you’d like to believe her, seeing as she has been through more than enough torment trying to figure <em>out</em> said wand, that would be great. Then you can point us in the direction of speccy and ginger and we can try to destroy those fucking soul splitters and get this over with.”</p><p>He gulped and shot a glance towards Hermione before looking back at Ginny, staring right into her eyes.</p><p>“I am more than sure that The Dark Lord will be arriving soon.” He finished. Shrugging when nobody responded, the shock and confusion seemed to have ridden them still. “So, where—“</p><p>“What proof do you have? Oh yeah, <em>none!</em>” Seamus barked again, flinching ever so slightly when Draco’s line of vision rounded to him once more. “You have that mark on your arm, how do we know you aren’t here to call on him? How do we know you're not here to let the death-eaters in, <em>again?”</em></p><p>Draco stepped forward and looked as if he was really going to cuff Seamus this time, but all of his actions were frozen when the big oak doors swung open and three figures ran in, out of breath and sweating.</p><p>Hermione had been momentarily lulled too, fearing that it would be someone bearing bad news, someone bearing hexes or curses or even Voldemort himself, but her heart shuddered happily when she met Luna’s gleaming eyes, her body flanked by Blaise and Winky.</p><p>“Miss Hermione Granger!” Winky yelled, running at Hermione like a bullet and latching herself onto her legs, sobbing into her jeans. “I feared you had been hurt, miss! Winky does not want miss Hermione Granger to be hurt!"</p><p>“Luna?” Neville said, mouth falling agape as Luna and Blaise hurried over to the huddle of people in the middle of the great hall. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”</p><p>“Oh hello, Neville, and the others.” Luna nodded her head towards Ginny with a tight smile but turned her attention to Draco, who was pulling Blaise into a tight hug and patting him on the back. “Is Pansy here yet? Oh, she’s going to absolutely kill me when she finds out I didn’t listen to her…”</p><p>Ginny's mouth became ascrew like she had tasted something sour.</p><p>“I doubt she’ll be here until The Dark Lord arrives…” Hermione said, her voice becoming very tight. “Why did you come?”</p><p>“To help my friends of course,” Luna shrugged, as if it was a matter of fact. “Father is knocked out cold with a sleeping potion, safe in the cottage, I apparated straight to Andromeda’s and grabbed Blaise and Winky, who could apparate us here with elf magic...got a little lost tho...Winky got nervous and accidentally landed us by the lake...and Hermione—“</p><p>Luna trailed off and cleared her throat. She tried her best to lower her voice, but Ginny, Seamus and Dean had edged so close to her that they were practically stood in one heap.</p><p>“McGonagall and Flitwick are in the courtyard...making wards, enchantments but—there are people—outside the wards—“ Luna shivered, face turning pale. “Snatchers...death-eaters...they're all waiting for his arrival, I think. I didn’t see Theo and Pans…”</p><p>Seamus threw his hands up in the air, “Oh c’mon Luna, you’re with <em>these guys?</em> Is this why you all left Hogwarts? For some master plan on how to become death—“</p><p>“If you are about to insinuate that I would ever take the dark mark you better shut your hole right now Seamus Finnigan!” Luna barked, “You don’t know anything we have been through!”</p><p>Seamus' mouth fell open but pressed into a thin line when Blaise and Draco simultaneously shot him a warning glare, and he backed away a few steps.</p><p>“It’s true, Luna?” Ginny asked, cocking her head to the side. “Malfoy is with <em>us?</em> Zabini too? Hermione—“</p><p>“Hermione is in love? That’s not what you were about to say, is it? But yes, Hermione is in love with Draco,” Luna paused at the strangled gasp that fell from Ginny’s throat. “I have been with them for a while. Trust me when I say we want for nothing more than all of this to be over!”</p><p>Then, like a crack of lightning in a pale blue sky, Ginny cracked. Her sour face fell into dough, and she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Hermione’s neck, ignoring the house-elf clinging to her legs and simply held her for seconds that felt like hours. Her hug felt like brittle trust—like hope.</p><p>“So you can really end this?” Ginny swallowed. “How?”</p><p>“We don’t have time to dwell,” Draco spoke. “I can sense him, through the mark...he’s close.”</p><p>“It’s so early…” Hermione gulped, glancing up at the clock on the wall where the Professors would eat during mealtimes. The hourglasses that held the house points were shattered and smashed, the Gryffindor gems scattered across the floor like ruby droplets of blood, landing by her shoes. “It’s only three in the afternoon.”</p><p>More time had passed than she had thought.</p><p>“<em>How, </em>Hermione,” Ginny asked again, seemingly trying to ignore Draco all together. “I don’t understand this, I really do not understand why you would choose <em>him, </em>but I trust you! I just need to know <em>how</em>.”</p><p>Hermione slid her wand from her pocket, ignoring the chanted gasps that issued from Seamus, Dean and Neville who all stood gawking as she held it up beneath the chandelier above her.</p><p>“As Draco said—this can destroy what we need to destroy to kill him.” Hermione slid her wand through her fingers and dropped her hand to her side. “Where are they? Harry and Ron?”</p><p>“They're in the room of requirement,” Neville said. He shot Hermione a soft smile that told her he trusted her, that he loved her and is proud of her. The type of smile to make Hermione's heart swell. “They are looking for one of the last Horcruxes—Ravenclaw’s diadem.”</p><p>“Oh, the diadem…” Luna’s voice came out rather dazed, yet somewhat excited. “I know <em>exactly</em> where it is, we should head there, Hermione—and we can—“</p><p>Luna’s voice was cut short by a loud, defeating rumble, followed by screaming. The type of screams that turn your blood cold, the type of screams that inflict pain in your soul and had the ability to freeze you to the spot. Winky screamed and fell to the ground, smacking her head on the stone and knocking her into a dazed state.</p><p>Draco hissed beside her, and he and Blaise both gripped their forearms simultaneously.</p><p>“Fuck—“ Blaise growled, face twisting. “He—I think he’s here.”</p><p>Then, like she had spun into yet another reality, everything became chaos. The doors to the great hall swung open, followed by a large smock of dark shadows in black robes, faces all hidden by silver and black painted masks.</p><p>Without even seeing their faces—she knew they were hunting. They were looking for Harry, all hoping to be the Dark Lords saviour and take their master what he wanted most. But that didn’t mean they were safe, Death-Eaters were ruthless, cruel and deceitful and full of the worlds most bitter evil, they’d kill and curse anybody who got in their way.</p><p>Draco gripped her arm, pulling her behind him as he swung his wand into the air like it was a sword, brandishing it, and began to shoot spells at the intruders without even second-guessing it. Without even thinking about it, he was sending curses at masked men that could’ve been someone he knew, someone like Lucius or Snape or Mr Nott. Someone he grew up around, someone he had been taught to trust.</p><p>But none of that seemed to matter to him. The risk of being seen and recognised as Draco Malfoy despite his raven hair seemed to fizzle into nothing but shards. All he seemed to care about was Hermione. Keeping her safe. Keeping her alive.</p><p>Hermione watched the students scatter, escaping from the hall with their hands over their heads. Slughorn was pulling students to safety, blocking hexes and jinxes in his wake. Hermione gasped when he was hit in the side of the face by what looked like a curse, splitting his skin, spilling crimson down onto the floor, but he still pursued, pulling the youngest most fragile students out of the great hall.</p><p>Hermione's wand was in the air within seconds, blocking a curse that was sent in the direction of their huddle that was now dispersing. She cast a shield around them, and knelt to the floor and grasped Winky’s face in her hands.</p><p>“Winky!” She yelled over the chaos around her. “Winky, listen to me! Hey!”</p><p>“Winky is scared, miss!” The elf whispered, eyes glossy from her fall. “Winky is very scared!”</p><p>“You can apparate within the walls of the school, can’t you? <em>Can’t you!”</em> Winky nodded, grasping Hermione’s fingers and squeezing them. “Then grab every student you can see, apparate them to Madam Rosmerta in Hogsmeade! Okay! Winky, listen to me, if you do this we will all be very happy, and very proud of you!”</p><p>Winky scrambled to her feet, gasping as a shot of red light hit and splintered the shield Hermione had cast around them, but nodded and grabbed the student nearest to her, who Hermione recognised to be Michael Corner, then a Ravenclaw boy next to him, dissolving with a crack.</p><p>“Hermione!” Draco yelled, pulling her to her feet and blocking a jet of green at the same time. “We have to get to the room of requirement, <em>right fucking now!”</em></p><p>His hands found their way to the sides of her face, grasping her jaw with all his might. At that moment, Hermione forgot everything. His eyes were full of rage, of fear and pain and a hunger for revenge. </p><p>Hermione glanced around and saw Ginny thrashing people to the ground, her wand moving so quickly it was almost a blur. She watched as Seamus grabbed Neville and Dean and led them out, screaming “We have to get to the bridge!” and then they disappeared out of sight.</p><p>Blaise was duelling a large, broad death-eater whose mask was slipping over his face. For a moment, Hermione thought she saw piercing green eyes that reminded her heavily of Pansy. But Hermione didn’t know Pansy’s father or mother, but could it possibly be one of them?</p><p>Blaise shot Draco a look, not a look pleading for help or support, not a look of fear or trepidation. A smug look, with a little twinge at the edges of his lips. And with that, he shot a curse that radiated green, and the Death-Eater fell to the ground in a great heap of death.</p><p>“Go find the Horcruxes!” Blaise whispered as he passed Hermione and Draco, continuing to shout curses at anyone he deemed a threat, but the number of cloaked bodies was thinning in the great hall, most of them falling to the ground in clumps of casualties. But of course, with the black robes, were ones with colourful crests too. “I’ll keep a lookout here, in case Theo or Pansy show!"</p><p>Draco nodded, a sniff, nervous type of nod.</p><p>Hermione’s eyes found Ginny once more, she was running towards the oak doors of the hall. Hermione knew she was desperate to find her family if they were here.</p><p>Hermione gripped Dracos forearm and tugged him towards Luna who was blocking curses from two large, plump death-eaters.</p><p>Hermione shot a stunner in their direction, her wand emitting its familiar puffs of black smoke and knocking them both out completely cold, and gripped Luna’s arm.</p><p>“You know where the diadem is?” Hermione asked, breathless.</p><p>“Room of requirement inside the grand bookshelf, I’ve seen it plenty of times.” Luna gulped, ducking a curse and reflecting it back into the direction where it came from. “Rather beautiful—a tiara—“</p><p>Hermione nodded and gripped her arm with the hand that was holding her wand, and tightened her grip on Draco’s wrist. She took one glance at the Great Hall in all its mess, it’s broken windows and shattered glass, the bodies on the floor, some bearing robes of green, blue, red and yellow, and some wearing black masks.</p><p>With a deep breath, her stomach rumbling with nerves to what she’d see outside of this room, she disapparated the three of them with a loud, deafening crack.</p><p>—</p><p>Her suspicions were correct. Outside the Great Hall, it was a mantra.</p><p>But there were no hymns. There were no voices of song or prayer. It was a mantra of screams, a mantra of cold-hearted swells of curses and swarms of red, green and white light-emitting from the tips of wands.</p><p>Once they had landed in the corridor, Hermione tried to avoid looking at the destruction that was being caused around her. It had been less than fifteen minutes since the wards had been broken, yet it had been fifteen cold, broken minutes of thrashing and death. There was a litter of bodies on the ground by the staircase, where a group of students had tried to flee, but seemingly failed. Hermione had to tear her eyes away and keep running, hand in hand with Draco when she recognised one of the faces to be Romilda Vane, her curly hair tangled within fragments of stone and one dark, shiny eye gouged from her head like it had been plucked out with a knife.</p><p>“What about Pansy?” Luna yelled, voice desperate as they continued down the corridor, all not daring to look at their dead classmate. “What about Pansy! Hermione! Pansy!”</p><p>Her voice was strained, kerning at the edges with the prospect of fear. Hermione knew if she looked sideways at her, she’d be crying.</p><p>“We need to find the Horcruxes, Luna!” Draco yelled over his shoulder, still clinging to Hermione’s hand like he was afraid she’d dissolve into thin air. “Blaise will find Pansy.”</p><p>But then, like a sun in a dark sky, three figures rounded the corner. At first, Hermione panicked, brandishing her wand when she saw the pool of black robes drifting across the stone, but when she saw Pansy and Theo’s faces desperately running towards them, everything seemed a little less scary. There was a face she didn’t recognise, long wavy dirty blonde hair and blue eyes that shimmered in the flashes of lights drifting through the windows.</p><p>“Luna!” Pansy screamed, lurching towards the blonde and throwing her arms over her body, pulling her into a soul-crushing hug. “What the <em>fuck</em> are you doing here? You promised me, Luna, you fucking promised me!”</p><p>Pansy was crying, her clear blue tears turning crimson when they rolled over the fresh blood on her cheeks. Theo was in no better shape, as he reached towards Draco to pull him into a quick, tight hug, Hermione saw he had multiple gashes on his fingers and hands.</p><p>“You promised!” Pansy said again, but Luna did nothing but pull her towards her and smash her lips against her own. “You promised me you wouldn’t put yourself in danger, Luna.”</p><p>“How was I meant to sit alone and know you're in danger?” Luna asked, shaking her head. “We don’t have time to fight, we need to find the Horcruxes and Hermione has to destroy them.”</p><p>Pansy nodded, doing nothing but sliding her hands into Luna’s.</p><p>“Hermione, Draco,” Theo nodded towards them as he pulled himself free of Draco’s hug. “This is Grace...anyway, no time to dwell, we have a job to do!”</p><p>Hermione gave a stiff nod towards the blonde, who whispered a small greeting. There was no time to befriend, no time to get to know. There was only time to do what they had to do, only time to focus on the task at hand. The only reason she wasn’t distrusting the blonde was because of the way Theo was looking at her, his eyes shining.</p><p>And so, Hermione continued, heading towards the room of requirement, simply praying and hoping it would show itself to them. She was more than grateful that this corridor was deserted, the battle seeming to have fled to the lower floors, and out onto the courtyard.</p><p>“Are you okay, Hermione?” Draco asked as Hermione tugged him. The pressure of his hand squeezing her fingers was threatening to cut off her blood circulation, but she <em>needed </em>that. “I’m not letting you do this if you're not okay.”</p><p>“I’m fine, I’m fine…” Hermione said, waving her free hand that held her wand. “Are <em>you</em> okay?”</p><p>Draco shot her a sideways glance, his eyes dancing with something Hermione knew all too well. He wasn’t scared for himself, he was scared for her. And she didn’t like that. Deep down, she knew that if anything happened to her, he would crumble. She couldn’t let anything happen to herself, not if she wanted Draco to stay stable, to stay true, to stay <em>himself</em>.</p><p>“As okay as I can be,” Draco said, shouting slightly over the yells below them. “If you weren’t here, fighting this with me, then I wouldn’t be okay.”</p><p>Hermione simply nodded. She glanced behind her to make sure the others were still following, which they were. She could hear Luna filling them in on what Harry and Ron were searching for and where.</p><p>Hermione continued on down the hall, stepping over shards of glass that had smashed from the windows during the death eaters forced entry until her eyes locked on the hidden entrance opposite the tapestry depicting the attempt of Barnabas the Barmy to teach trolls ballet. She remembered it more than clearly from her time in Dumbledore’s army, and her wand vibrated in her fist with so much vigour it almost hurt, and she knew this was definitely where she should be.</p><p>Once they arrived at the stretch of wall that was home to the room of requirement, Hermione and Draco both stopped, their hands falling apart while doing so.</p><p>“How do we, like, get in?” Theo asked, out of breath, clinging to Grace’s hand. “Will it even <em>let</em> us in?”</p><p>Pansy looked at her with an expectant expression, curiousness and fear ridden on her bloody features. Her eyes were glossy, the emerald in her iris’ obscured by black.</p><p>“To open the room you have to walk past it three times thinking about what you need, and the door will appear if it thinks it’s necessary,” Draco said, his voice wavering at the end when the enchantment of a killing curse echoed below them. “I—I know well from sixth year…”</p><p>“Harry and Ron should be in there—“ Her voice wavered and she realised she was rather nervous to see them again. “—and so will some Horcruxes. Which ones, I don’t know. How many? I don’t know. I don’t know how many they’ve found and how many they <em>need</em> to find, all I know is I need to destroy them—“</p><p>Then, without even walking back and forth in the way Draco had explained, the long stretch of wall behind them began to shake and rumble. They all turned to face it, looking in slight nervousness and awe as the large oak doors appeared, starting small and feeble and growing into doors as big as the ones that stand in the great hall.</p><p>“Didn't need much convincing, did it?” Grace spoke. Theo nudged her with his elbow playfully and she blushed and looked away.</p><p>“Right, if Harry and Ron approach you—they're going to be confused, they’ll give an even rasher impression than Ginny.” Hermione gulped. “Just—“</p><p>“Why don’t me and Grace stand out here, so they aren't overwhelmed by, well, you know, death-eaters...” Theo suggested, voice loud and barking over the chaos below them. “We can keep watch too, it won’t be long until they come back to this floor.”</p><p>It was silent for several seconds. The realisation of what was going on came crashing down over Hermione like a wave. The screams below echoed around her, filling her ears and thudding into her brain. The sound of walls collapsing, sending dust into the darkening sky, causing her vision to go foggy. The fact that Voldemort was actually here, after all this time. The fact that this was really happening, caused her to feel feeble.</p><p>Anger and fear ran through her veins, flooding her with determination. Her wand in her hand started to burn in the best way, sinking power and magical energy through her palm and into her bloodstream. it was Infecting her with a strange voltage; confidence, jitter and hope all at once.</p><p>She gulped, put her hand on the oak doors and pushed it open just a fragment and whispered. “Okay then, let’s do this.”</p><p>—</p><p>The room of requirement looked the complete opposite to how Hermione remembered it. When she had spent time within the walls as a member of the DA, the room was small and stark, with the walls made of glimmering mirrors.</p><p>Now, it was endless. So big she couldn’t see the end.</p><p>And there were objects everywhere, the clean empty floor replaced with mountains of bookshelves, filled with tombs and parchment and old potions bottles. There were old brooms and owl cages and old unmoving portraits littering the floors.</p><p>But one thing was not quickly apparent—Harry or Ron.</p><p>“I wonder if they're still in here…” Draco mused, eyes scanning the room almost desperately. His eyes fell over a large black cabinet, and he tensed up and looked away, tugging Hermione in a different direction. </p><p>“Harry!” Luna yelled, walking around a huddle of thick books on the floor, Pansy following in tow. “Harry! Ron! It’s us!”</p><p>There was no response. Deadly cold silence. The type of silence that made the hair on Hermione’s next stand tall.</p><p>“What if they're hurt—“</p><p>“Hey!” Draco interrupted, cupping her face. He was rather gloomy in the dark room, his pale skin adorned by shadows. “I’m more than sure we’d know if they were hurt, okay?”</p><p>Hermione shuddered, her hands shaking by her sides. She brought them up and took Draco’s hands, guiding them away from her skin.</p><p>They searched for over an hour. They searched and searched and searched. But they couldn’t find anything, not Harry or Ron, or even the diadem. Luna admitted that she thought it had been moved, because it wasn’t in the original bookshelf she had seen it the year previously.</p><p>They searched and searched around the room that felt completely <em>endless, </em>walking in circles that weren’t actually circles, just new routes, they climbed tables and cupboards and mountains of books. It was only when they reached a new clearing in the hoarded mess, did they have some sort of hope.</p><p>“There it is!” Luna gasped, running towards a tall bookshelf that was incased by various amounts of chairs and tables, piled high like a tower. Luna pointed towards a black box, half-open on top of the bookshelf. “The diadem! It’s up there!”</p><p>“Are you sure that’s it?” Pansy asked, cocking her head to the side as Luna continued forwards, beginning to climb up the table in hopes of reaching the diadem.</p><p>“More than sure! I can see the engraving on the box!” The blonde yelled over her shoulder, “I’ll be down in a second, keep looking for Harry and Ron!”</p><p>Pansy opened her mouth to protest, but begrudgingly obliged, sending a wary glance in Luna’s direction, watching her clamber up the tables and chairs reaching for the box.</p><p>“Harry!” Hermione yelled out again, eyes scanning desperately for any sign of her friends. She felt Draco and Pansy following her from behind. “Ron! It’s Hermione!”</p><p>Nothing. Silence.</p><p>“They're not here…” Hermione huffed, continuing to walk down the clearing. She passed a cage of cornish pixies, asleep or dead she could not tell. “Maybe they already left, maybe—“</p><p>Then they turned another corner, where there was a velvet maroon sofa with moth-eaten holes. But it wasn’t the sofa that Hermione’s eyes trained to.</p><p>It was the red shaggy hair, the oversized plaid jumper. And besides that, the overgrown black hair, the glasses, the brown jacket, peeking over something behind the couch, not even looking her way.</p><p>Her breath caught in her throat, constricting her airways.</p><p>They looked the same but so different. They looked the same but so old, so worn and beaten and deflected. The pale shadows on Harry’s face made his cheeks look sunken from the angle he was at, and Ron’s hair was so long it spun in ringlets against his shoulders. What was Hermione even meant to say? What was she even meant to do? It had been so long, but staring at them from across the oversized room made her feel like no time had passed at all.</p><p>“Ron?” Hermione’s voice came out much quieter than she had expected. “Harry?”</p><p>Yet, apparently, it wasn’t quiet enough, because both their hands snapped in her direction, wands flaring in the air.</p><p>Draco held his wand up too, followed by Pansy. They shadowed her, one slytherin for each shoulder. Hermione knew how suspicious this must have looked, how evil and cruel they would have appeared, looming in a shadow, black hair and pale features.</p><p>“Hermione?” Harry was the one to break the stark silence, his head tilting to the side in a bruised confusion. “Hermione is that—what the hell?”</p><p>Hermione stepped forward, trying to stop her knees from buckling when Ron backed away, holding his wand up higher.</p><p>“What the fuck?” Ron said, eyes blazing with something Hermione could not decipher. She continued to walk towards him, her wand falling to her side. “Hermione <em>stop!”</em></p><p>She heard Draco groan behind her. She knew he was fuming, she could practically feel the flames burning from his skin. He hated Ron and Harry more than anybody, he loathed them more than he had ever loathed her. She knew it was taking everything in his being to not explode, to not step forward and brandish a curse at each of their heads. She knew he was sucking his teeth and clawing his hands into fists, too.</p><p>“What the fuck are you doing?” Ron’s skin had turned crimson. “Is that Malfoy? Parkinson? Your hair? Hermione—“</p><p>“Ron, calm down,” Hermione said, still stepping towards them. “I need you to—I need you to listen to me very carefully and <em>calm down.”</em></p><p>But Ron wasn’t looking at her, he was looking over her shoulder and into the eyes of Draco Malfoy.</p><p>“Why are you with <em>Malfoy</em>?” He asked, voice becoming severely more agitated. “Why is his hair—“</p><p>“Will you shut up! Ron! Seriously!” Hermione snapped, stepping towards him and pointing her finger at him.</p><p>“His hair doesn’t matter. I haven’t seen you in nearly a <em>year</em> and the first thing you care about is why I’m with him? Not, ‘are you okay Hermione?’ not, ‘are you safe, Hermione?’ no, because your superiority complex is too high to care about <em>me</em>, isn’t it!”</p><p>Ron’s mouth fell into a line. He looked at her for a short second, but then his eyes fell back to Draco again, who was still keeping his mouth shut. Hermione knew he’d be seconds from exploding if Ron didn’t cooperate.</p><p>“Hermione, you’re with Draco Malfoy. A death-eater. And you—“ Harry spoke, stepping in front of Ron, his face rather placid. “Why?”</p><p><em>Why</em>.</p><p>What a golden question.</p><p>Why? Why was Hermione with Draco Malfoy? There were answers to that she couldn’t explain even if she wanted to. There were things and incidents that happened that they’d never understand, especially not standing in the middle of the room of requirement with Voldemort lingering outside of the walls.</p><p>“<em>Why</em> doesn’t matter right now, Harry!” She barked again, feeling Draco and Pansy walking towards her very slowly. “Why won’t you ever listen to me? I’ve been missing for seven months for reasons both of you won’t understand when you're in <em>this </em>state!”</p><p>The wand in her hand vibrated her again—reminding her of the task at hand.</p><p>
  <em>Destroy them. Destroy him.</em>
</p><p>She could’ve sworn she heard her thoughts in the voice of Regulus Black.</p><p>“You want to know <em>why?” </em>Hermione sighed, holding her wand into the air. “This is <em>why! </em>You were out finding the Horcruxes <em>without me?</em> I was out discovering how to destroy them, <em>with him!”</em></p><p>Harry’s eyes flexed over the wand, gleaming. </p><p>“Is that the Slytherin locket?” Harry asked, voice shocked. “That’s the...we couldn’t find that Horcrux…”</p><p>“It can destroy the other Horcruxes,” Draco spoke from behind her, his warm voice ghosting her ear. It was what she needed for her to be able to breathe normally again. “Basilisk fang core, the venom can—“</p><p>“Excuse me mate, but I’m sure she can talk for herself,” Ron interjected, sending a glare at Draco once more. “Hermione, I don’t understand—“</p><p>“Sorry to interrupt, but what don’t you understand?” Pansy asked, her voice also ghosting Hermione’s ear. “You have the Horcruxes, am I right? Hermione needs to destroy them with the wand, simple, hand them over.”</p><p>“You think we’d hand over the Horcruxes to two death-eaters?” Ron gawked. “You're barking! Absolutely mental!”</p><p>“Listen here,” Draco brushed past Hermione and grabbed Ron by the scruff of his neck before anyone even had the chance to interject. “Do you know what she’s been through because you left her here by herself? Do you know what she’s had to do, whose she’s had to hurt? No, you don’t. Do you realise that outside of this room people are fucking <em>dying</em>, do you realise they are fucking <em>dying </em>because you have failed to destroy the Horcruxes before now and now it’s Hermione’s job to do so, do you?”</p><p>Ron’s eyes were wide. He opened his mouth but no words came out.</p><p>“I’m the only person she has fucking had! I’m the only person she’s been able to talk to, to touch, to <em>trust. </em>You think I’d throw that all away by stealing the Horcruxes and taking them to the monster who has ruined everything for us?” Draco continued, face red and teeth bared, like a wolf in heat. “Get over yourself, for once, and realise that this goes beyond house superiority and blood status—this is about <em>living.”</em></p><p>Draco dropped Ron and pushed him away so he stumbled and fell back against the sofa. If Hermione was reading his face correctly, she’d say he was embarrassed, with his cheeks as red as his hair.</p><p>“Hang on, basilisk fang can—wait—“ Harry dropped his wand and had a look on his face that resembled eating something sour. “You can really destroy these?”</p><p>Harry held his hand out towards Ron, who looked between them with his jaw clenched before passing him his bag.</p><p>“How many?” Hermione asked, slightly nervous. “How many are there?”</p><p>“Seven. The diary, destroyed. The ring, destroyed. The locket?” Harry looked almost perplexed as he dropped the bag to the floor and unzipped it.</p><p>“Destroyed,” Hermione confirmed, nodding her head.</p><p>“Right. That's three destroyed.” Harry continued, pulling out a golden goblet. “Four, the Hufflepuff cup. We suspect one is the diadem—“</p><p>“Luna is getting it,” Pansy interjected, not even flinching at the hiss Ron sent her way when she opened her mouth. “That's five.”</p><p>“You don’t have six or seven?” Hermione asked, voice falling short. Panic bubbled into her stomach.</p><p>“The snake. That’s one…” Harry trailed off and cleared his throat.</p><p>“So there's one missing?” Draco asked, raising a brow, voice suspicious and almost...disappointed. “So you're here, ready to fight? But you won’t even be able to kill him? I thought Gryffindor’s—“</p><p>“Hermione, I have my suspicions for the last one, but—.” Harry interrupted, ignoring the way Ron and Draco stepped towards each other by an inch, sneers on both faces. “—just take this and get the one from Luna, destroy them out in the corridor, we don’t know how they’ll react to the venom—“</p><p>“So you really are just handing the cup to her?” Ron quirked, flinching when Draco’s hand came in contact with his collar again. “Get off me Malfoy, before I do something I will regret.”</p><p>Draco simply laughed so hard it brushed the hairs away from Ron’s forehead. “Try it, Weaselbee, go on, try it.”</p><p>Hermione didn’t have time to look at them, to try and break them apart. She snatched the cup from Harry’s hands and shoved it into her pocket. While doing so, she let her eyes fall into Harry’s for the first time. It crushed something inside of her, twisting her insides and pulling at the seams of her heart. Because she loved him, she really did. He was her first friend, her first companion, the first person who ever understood her for who she was.</p><p>His eyes reminded her of why she was here in the first place.</p><p>“Draco, come on, stop,” Hermione muttered, grasping his hand and pulling it away from Ron's collar. “There are more important things to be worrying about than petty fights…”</p><p>Draco scoffed in Ron’s face, but let Hermione take his hand and lead him away. Which, seemed to be a shock for both Harry and Ron, who gawked down at their hands and back to each other. Harry, seemed confused, a little hurt even. But Ron was red with rage, jaw tensed and wand shaking in his hand.</p><p>“So your fucking a death-eater then, are you?” Ron hissed, “Hermione, I’m more than disappointed in you.”</p><p>“Fucking <em>two</em> death-eaters actually, I was thrown into the mix just once—“ Pansy said, but shut her mouth when Draco sent her a wary glare. “Anyway—“</p><p>“What, are you jealous?” Draco asked, cocking a brow, still letting Hermione lead him away. “There’s a war going on right now and your worried about what Hermione puts in her—“</p><p>“Incendio!” Ron was shouting the spell before any of them had the chance to comprehend it.</p><p>It was aimed right at Draco’s head. Not only was it a very strange spell to aim at someone, but it was also a weak one too. It took Hermione little to no effort rising her wand and dejecting the spell, sending it flaring towards the sofa instead, engulfing it in flames which quickly exploded and spread around them.</p><p>Draco had already gripped Hermione’s hand and pulled her in the direction away from the flames, following Pansy who was just yelling, “Get Luna! Get Luna!”</p><p>“Are you fucking insane?!” Harry gawked, running away from the sofa and down the stretch of room, the others had already descended down. “Ron, mate, what were you thinking?”</p><p>Ron was frozen, Hermione glanced over her shoulder as she ran from the spreading flames and saw him standing in shock, his wand raised in the air, still swarming with flames.</p><p>Hermione growled, turned back and grabbed his arm, threw his wand to the floor and tugged him along with them.</p><p>“I’m sorry!” Ron yelled, shock and guilt running through his words, “I didn't mean to–I hate him! I’m sorry!”</p><p>“I hate you too, you cunt!” Draco yelled over his shoulder, tugging Pansy away from the flames that were swarming around them quicker than any of them were really processing. “But there’s no need to try and singe my head off!”</p><p>Hermione was not listening. She couldn’t. How could she care, how could she focus on what they were saying? In the space of two calm, short minutes, that was meant to be her reunion with Harry and Ron, were turned into wildfire and panic, into the same amount of chaos that was happening outside the walls.</p><p>They kept running until the flames engulfed them from every angle, closing in on them with no escape. The only option was to climb. Draco had already pushed Hermione in front of him, pushing and pushing until she was halfway up a large pile of tables and chairs. She could feel him climbing beneath her, and could see Harry on her left, Ron just below him. Pansy was still yelling, her voice desperate but hard to decipher within the sounds of the fire.</p><p>She pulled herself to the top and stood up on a table which wobbled beneath her feet. Her skin was burning, lungs closing in on themselves, but none of that seemed to matter, not when she heard the panicked scream from Pansy who had crawled up beside her and followed her eyeline.</p><p>Luna was on the same pile of tables and chairs she had been when they left, just across from where they were now. Close, but not close enough to touch her, not close enough to pull her over to the table in which they were all now standing.</p><p>“Hermione!” Draco spat, taking her face in his hands, his fingers reeling with the warmth of the fire. “You need to apparate us out of here, now!”</p><p>Pansy was yelling. She was screaming. Hermione couldn’t work out what she was saying.</p><p>Hermione was frozen. She could feel Draco’s hands on her face but couldn’t quite process them. She could not quite work out what he was telling her, his voice blurring into the same guzzle of noise that was Harry’s, Ron’s, Pansy’s and the conflagration.</p><p>She could only stare at Luna. Even in the midst of the flames closing in around her, she looked calm. Her warm skin gleaming, her eyes shiny, bright and placid.</p><p>Hermione could feel the hands on her face shaking her, she could feel the flames clipping her feet in the same way they were clipping Luna’s. But she didn’t notice, she only noticed the small nod that was sent her way by the blonde and the way she threw the black box she had been trying to retrieve through the flames until it fell at Harry’s shoes.</p><p>“Hermione!” Draco’s voice was coming back into her senses. “Get us out of here, now! Please! You can’t die!”</p><p>“Luna!” Pansy was screaming. “Luna jump!”</p><p>Hermione watched as Luna smiled, a bright smile, a real smile.</p><p>She watched as the table beneath Luna wobbled.</p><p>She watched as the table flipped sideways as Luna stepped to jump across to them, to safety.</p><p>She watched as Luna slipped and fell.</p><p>She watched as Luna disappeared into the flames, not omitting even the smallest of screams.</p><p>Shock. That’s all she could feel. Nothing else. Not the warmth of the flames or the way Pansy had fallen to her knees screaming, her body collapsing in grief.</p><p>Just shock. Death. All it told her was she can’t let Draco die this way either. She took his hand, he took Pansy’s shoulder. Her other hand shakingly gripped Harry’s shoulder and she hoped he’d have enough sense to work out what she was going to do and take Ron's.</p><p>With one last look down at the flames, knowing that Luna was there, burning to dust, she closed her eyes and disappeared, leaving the flames behind her.</p><p>—</p><p>Hermione landed knees down on the stone.</p><p>She couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t hear anything but Pansy’s pained screams of grief. Couldn’t see anything but Theo rushing towards her and picking her up from the floor by her armpits, dragging her into an alcove.</p><p>She could hardly breathe. Could hardly see through the smoke that remained in her eyes. Could hardly push past the dull thud of numbness ripping through her body.</p><p>But she wasn’t sad. She wasn’t sad she had just seen Luna die before her eyes in the wildfire–she was angry. And anger overruled everything, anger flooded her veins and swarmed her with vengeance.</p><p>“Hermione?” Draco was on his feet as well, spluttering out spoke from his lungs. His hands found her shoulders, fingers flexing up to brush her jawline. “Are you okay? Fuck Hermione—Jesus fuck—“</p><p>There was a small glint of relief that riddled through her the moment she looked into Draco’s eyes. The hue of blue infected her with a chill of ice that made the hair on her arms stand up. He was safe. He wasn’t hurt. He wasn’t burnt. He was alive.</p><p>It scared her how much she needed him to be alive.</p><p>He kissed her, swift and quick, lips pressing against her own in a way that told her <em>thank god you’re okay.</em></p><p>“Are you—“</p><p>“I’m okay, Hermione, I’m okay.” His forehead hit her own. A small moment of calmness, a small moment of relief. A moment to take a deep breath. “Luna—“</p><p>“She died.” Hermione gulped, taking a look at Pansy who was trying to drag herself out from the alcove, screaming to let her back into the room of requirement.</p><p>“She did,” Draco said, breath ghosting her face. "I don't know what to say, or what to think–"</p><p>He kissed her forehead before he pulled himself away, staring down at her and inspecting her face, looking for any signs of pain or injury.</p><p>“I love you.” He gushed, shaking his head. “I—“</p><p>“I know.” Hermione looked at her feet, desperately trying to ignore the noises coming from Pansy’s mouth, noises that would scar her forever. “I love you, Draco.”</p><p>Ron scrambled beside her, clawing himself to his feet. Harry quickly followed, spluttering and coughing.</p><p>Hermione couldn’t look at Ron. She couldn’t bare to see the guilt in his face. She knew if she looked at him she’d see Luna’s last smile in his eyes, see the way he lit the room on fire with no question.</p><p>“Hermione—“ Harry coughed, shouting over the noise that was suddenly swarming back into her ears. The spells and destruction from downstairs still had yet to reach the seventh floor. “Destroy them, destroy them <em>now. </em>We can’t let anyone else die.”</p><p>
  <em>Can’t let anyone else die.</em>
</p><p>Anyone else–The fact <em>someone</em> had died was more than enough to have bile rising in her stomach.</p><p>He dropped the box at her feet, the silver diadem falling to the ground, clinking as it hit the stone. It was beautiful, shining and gleaming as if it was made yesterday. Draco stuffed his fingers into Hermione’s pockets and threw the cup to her feet as well. She watched it roll until it landed beside the tiara with a small tink.</p><p>For a moment she only stared down at them, admiring the fact she was about to destroy something so powerful, so important, so necessary in the steps to kill the Dark Lord. Yet, the serine only lasted one moment, because there was a loud bang behind her causing all of them, minus Pansy who was still on the floor, her screams slowly dying out into sobs, to turn on their heels.</p><p>Robes. Dark and cloaked and smokey. They were far across the floor, fighting with other students and teachers and what seemed to be one of the twins, ginger hair bouncing as he duelled. But it wouldn’t be long before they’d spot them, before they’d spot Draco and Harry and run towards them like they were prey.</p><p>“Quickly,” Draco gulped, voice clipped. “Hermione, remember the rage you felt in Greenwich, remember the way you used that unforgivable and destroyed a piece of his soul. Do it again. Let the anger flood your bones.”</p><p>“I don’t have to let it,” Hermione growled, aiming her wand towards the objects on the stone. “It already is flooding my bones.”</p><p>“Then do it.”</p><p>She didn’t know what spell to use, didn’t know what to do to destroy a piece of the Dark Lords soul. But she didn’t need to know because the wand in her hand began to sear, glowing in her charred palm. The warmth from it was enough to tell her what to do without her needing to ask, and she was muttering a spell before she even had the chance to think about it.</p><p>“<em>Crucio</em>.”</p><p>She’s not sure how it worked, the spell was a curse for living things, a way to torture and cause pain. But just like in Greenwich, the same black inky smoke erupted from her wand, hitting the objects both at the same time, causing them to explode into a thick onyx mist, which cascaded throughout the entire floor, plunging them into darkness for at least twenty seconds.</p><p>Maybe all it took for a part of his soul to die was to use a spell Voldemort had always held so close to him. Ironic, Hermione thought.</p><p>“There,” Hermione muttered. “Hope he felt that,”</p><p>The black mist burnt away, exposing each shocked face around her, including Theo, Grace and Pansy, who had stopped sobbing for one second.</p><p>Harry was on the ground, his hand over his head, withering and shaking grunting in pain.</p><p>“Harry! Are you okay?” Ron asked, falling down beside him.</p><p>“It worked,” Harry grunted, rushing to his feet. “And he’s not happy about it.”</p><p>It was silent for a moment. A bleak terrifying moment where everything threatened to hit Hermione like a truck. But it didn’t, because Harry was pulling her into a soul-crushing hug, his arms clenching around her neck like she was the only thing in the world. Then he kissed her cheek and turned to Ron, doing the same.</p><p>“I love you both.” He gulped, “There's something I need to do, something that’s necessary for this to work, for him to die.”</p><p>It was silent again.</p><p>“Luna just died because of <em>me.” </em>Harry gulped. “Tonks and Remus are dead, because of me.”</p><p>Hermione felt like she had been slapped at his words. A new death she hadn’t been aware of. One that penetrated her lungs and sprung tears to her eyes.</p><p>“<em>You</em> will not die because of me.” Harry continued. Hermione felt Draco’s hand slipping into her own. “So I must go and do what I have to do right now. I love you.”</p><p>He was running before Hermione could stop him.</p><p>Hermione turned to Ron and opened her mouth to speak, but she was cut off by Draco taking a deep breath, his hand tugging her behind him.</p><p>“Fuck.” He muttered. “Oh fuck.”</p><p>Hermione followed his eyeline, turning on her heels slightly.</p><p>Sure enough, it was as bad as she had expected from his reaction. Because standing beneath the window, which was now depicting the days first draw of nightfall, was Lucius Malfoy.</p><p>Lucius was not as Hermione remembered. His long silky hair was now tangled in short tuffs. His pale skin ripped and bared and slashed, bleeding from multiple wounds. His eyes were red, the whites around his iris stark crimson in an unnatural way. He looked pained, weak, on the drink of collapsing. </p><p>Staring at him now with his face aglow from the cold moonlight, did Hermione pity herself for ever thinking Draco was anything like him. Glancing back at Draco, his black hair falling over his forehead, did she realise he wasn’t a Malfoy at all. He was a Black, just like his mother.</p><p>“Well well well,” Lucius drawled, clapping his hands rather slowly in time with his cold, bitter laughs. “Would you look at that, my son, alive and well. New hairdo, I see. Look an awful lot like your auntie, shame she just died.”</p><p>Lucius turned his eyes towards Ron who was lingering behind Hermione. “Who knew a Weasley would ever kill a member of the Black Family? Rather shocking…”</p><p>Hearing that Bellatrix Lestrange was dead did nothing but infect Hermione with glee. Glee that flayed and fed her need for revenge, for vengeance.</p><p>“Father,” Draco said, voice a growl. “You’re still alive, I see.”</p><p>Lucius sneered, eyes-rolling. “You are so shocked that I am living, why would I be dead, son?”</p><p>Draco shook his head, laughing bitterly.</p><p>“Well, mother is dead, isn't she?” Hermione could feel the circulation in her fingers cutting short from how she’d he was gripping them. “Maybe I got my hopes up and believed the Dark Lord would’ve killed you like he killed her…”</p><p>Hermione breathed a sharp breath. Draco had never expressed that he believed that Voldemort had killed her. But Hermione was smart enough to know it was a tactic, a way to rid the truth from his father's loins. without directly asking for the truth.</p><p>“So you’ve worked out that it wasn’t your silly little friend then?” Lucius asked, raising a brow. “Clever like your father, I see.”</p><p>Lucius paused and glanced at Hermione. “I see you're taking after your mother, hand in hand with filthy blood.”</p><p>Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Lucius continued, looking down at the wand that was shaking in Draco’s fist.</p><p>“But you knew that, didn’t you, son? That she loved that filthy muggle before me, you didn't really think I'd allow <em>that</em>, do you?” Lucius laughed, hot spurts of blood came from his mouth, spraying across the ground at his feet.</p><p>He wavered like he was dizzy, and Hermione quickly realised he had been cursed. He was dying. That’s why he was speaking so freely.</p><p>“You killed her, didn’t you?” Hermione spoke, voice angry, drowning out Pansy’s sobs from the alcove behind her. “And now you’re dying, aren’t you? What curse did they use, Lucius? Bleeding from the inside out…I haven't heard of this one yet."</p><p>Lucius laughed again. Evil, cruel, bitter. Not an inch of remorse in his words. Blood began to leak from his eyes, then his ears, turning his white hair the same colour as wine.</p><p>“You really are the brightest witch of your age, aren’t you, Miss Granger?” Lucius asked. “You are right. I killed her, and I enjoyed watching the muggle loving life drain from her eye—“</p><p>“Incarcerous!” Draco yelled, cutting off the words Lucius was about to speak.</p><p>Ropes wrapped around Lucius, catching him and making him fall to the ground, his weak, cursed body crunching against the rubble beneath him.</p><p>“Draco—“</p><p>“Silencio.” Draco added, not wanting to hear his father beg, or to hear him litter anymore remarks.</p><p>There was so much pain in his voice that Hermione felt her heart split in two.</p><p>“Leave him here.” Draco hissed, spitting down at his father's feet as he tugged Hermione past him, not even boring to look back and ask any of the others to join them. She knew he was too shocked, too hurt to spare a glance at anyone but Hermione.</p><p>Because after all of this time, he had finally discovered how the person he cared most about had died. Her husband. The husband she never loved.</p><p>“He’ll die anyway, as he deserves. We, <em>you</em>, have a job to do."</p><p>–</p><p>
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    <span class="u">EDIT FOR THIS CHAPTER UP ON MY TIKTOK WHICH IS SIXTH_SENSES</span>
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    <span class="u">This story is coming to an end...very soon.</span>
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<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Thirty-Four.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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    <span class="u">The song for this chapter is Medicine by Daughter.</span>
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    <span class="u">Warnings for death in this chapter.</span>
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</p><p> </p><p>Death was not something Hermione ever feared. She wasn’t religious in any sense, nor did she believe that you could be reborn once you pass. It was a weird stance to take as someone in the wizarding world, but she believed death was simply death and that when you die, you leave the earth and everything you touched along with it.</p><p>There were times in her life she had even welcomed death. Like when she stood in front of a hungry werewolf to protect her friends. Or the time she was knocked cold in the department of ministries, the curse grazing her seconds from peril, and she had welcomed it. Or even just months ago, when she engulfed herself in the algid pits of the Black Lake, hoping for nothing more than to drown and leave her fear behind with her living soul.</p><p>In the wizarding world, there were so many loopholes around death. So many ways to keep yourself present even if you have passed. Becoming a ghost, moving portraits, even a short human form in the resurrection stones powers.</p><p>But today, Hermione realised that death was just <em>death</em>. And now, it scared her. It scared her because as she walked through the halls, stepping over bodies and moving blocked paths with a wand made by a dead man, she was scared of missing everything she would never have if she died.</p><p>She would miss the chance of reuniting with her parents. She would miss the chance of getting her first tattoo or learning how to drive a muggle car. She would miss getting her first job and going to her friend's weddings, baby showers and even funerals when they grew old. She’d miss having children or not having children, getting married or not getting married.</p><p>She’d miss growing old with Draco, as crazy as that seemed.</p><p>It was only now, when she realised that the school had gone deathly quiet, when there were no curses flying around her and no jets of light to block, did she realise that death in its greatest form was coming. A death that would sear her soul from her body and crush her with grief.</p><p>Harry.</p><p>She stopped dead in her tracks, glancing down over the staircase that was completely still, trying to detect one ounce of human form. But there was nobody but her and Draco. Nobody but the litter of bodies on the floor and nothing but the sound of muffled sobs echoing throughout the ghostly halls.</p><p>The death-eaters were gone. They had disappeared the moment Harry had left. It suddenly hit her, and she nearly doubled over in a muffled scream of grief.</p><p><em>“I have some ideas about the last one…” </em>Harry had said, referring to the last Horcrux.</p><p>“<em>I can’t let anybody else die for me…” </em>He had said as he hugged her.</p><p>She felt stupid for not realising that was his goodbye. She felt so stupid for not realising what he had meant. What he had hinted. The last Horcrux was Harry. The parts fell together perfectly in Hermione’s mind, tearing her brain into pierces. Why he could always see Voldemort’s thoughts, why he could feel Voldemort’s pain when the Horcruxes were destroyed just minutes ago.</p><p>Her knees hit the cracked stair beneath her, and she tumbled down until Draco caught her by the shoulders. He knelt to her level, pressing his hands against her cheeks.</p><p>“Hermione?” He said, voice a mere whisper. Hermione almost didn’t hear him, his voice getting mixed in the mistful echo of sobs. “<em>Hermione?”</em></p><p>Part of her felt guilty. Part of her felt guilty for not being with Harry over the past year, helping him, consoling him through all his hardships. She felt guilty for not forcing herself to be with him and Ron no matter if they wanted her there or not. She felt guilty knowing that he had led himself to death because of his pure manifesto for heroism.</p><p>He was ending this so nobody else would die <em>for </em>him. But now it just meant everyone had died <em>with </em>him.</p><p>“They're all gone…” Hermione whispered, raking her fingers through Draco’s hair. “They’ve all left to watch Harry die, they’ve all—“</p><p>“Hermione—“</p><p>Without saying anything, without coddling her or overwhelming her, he pulled her to his chest. He was like a magnet, her body falling against his like she was made of silk and he was the thread.</p><p>She took a deep breath. He smelt of fire and ice together as one. He smelt like death and love all at the same time. He smelt like home. He smelt like everything Hermione needed to fill her lungs with air, to take a deep breath and console her tears.</p><p>It must have been an hour, while Hermione just sat there and cried. An hour of pain and heartache and utter destruction. An hour of complete silence.</p><p>The silence scared her. Just before this, everything was chaos. How could it switch so quickly? How could the chaos fade into complete reticence?</p><p>They had been gone so much longer than she had expected in the room of requirement. An hour, maybe two. Time lost searching for the diadem. Time while people were fighting, people were battling. Who had died? Who had lived? What had happened? She felt so shut out. She felt so weak. All the guilt she couldn't feel for months came crashing over her.</p><p>So much time had passed that the sky was now twilight. So dark that she thought she might have seen her own reflection in the sky if she went outside and looked up at the moon.</p><p>She couldn’t even think about where Ron had gone, or if Pansy and Theo were still in the alcove, or if Blaise was in the Great Hall and if Winky had saved many children. She couldn't think of anything, not even the fact Harry was dying, or Harry was dead. She was empty. <em>Dull</em>.</p><p>“Listen to me, Hermione,” Draco whispered, his large hand resting on her head as she breathed a few dull sobs into the dent of his chest. “Do you realise how amazing you are? Do you realise that Harry would have died years ago without you?”</p><p>He paused and sighed. His breath fanned through her hair. Another reminder of companionship. Another reminder she wasn’t alone.</p><p>“Harry might die. He might <em>already</em> be dead. But that doesn’t mean you have to lose. It doesn’t mean <em>we</em> have to lose. It doesn’t mean you have to give up, it doesn’t mean that you have to sit here and cry until you get slaughtered by celebrating death-eaters when they return.”</p><p>Her tears began to dry, but her chest was hollow.</p><p>“It doesn’t mean that this was all for nothing. It doesn’t mean that Luna just died for no reason. It doesn’t mean that Pansy is up there screaming for no reason. We can end this. All of us. All of <em>you</em>.” He said, pressing a kiss to her head. “Now listen to me, Granger. Go to the great hall, go see the destruction this man has caused for you, for us. Use that anger and let's make him lose.”</p><p>She listened for a moment, and realised that the sobbing was coming from the great hall. She knew what that meant. That people were dead. That people were mourning in this small window-break of fighting. Hermione knew it would be people she loved, people she cared about. People with bright smiles and intelligent futures. People with hearts that’ll turn to dust, all in the name of the war.</p><p>She knew it was going to hurt. Deep down, she knew she’d never forget.</p><p>Draco continued, speaking with his lips on the curve of her head.</p><p>“You've got a warm heart, you've got a beautiful brain, don’t let it start disintegrating.”</p><p>Hermione felt it then; the hope, all memories that flooded her mind. The memory of drawing out a blade from Draco’s chest in the middle of the crimson-stained snow. The memory of him handing her the locket wand and telling her to <em>just try. </em>The memory of him taking her into the snowy fields and battling her over and over and over until she took control. The memory of his ankle around her own. The memory of Greenwich, the memory of returning to Grimmauld Place.</p><p>She looked at the cracked empty portraits on the walls and was reminded that this was her home. This was where she had studied until dawn. This was where she, Harry and Ron had destroyed the Philosophers Stone. This was where she had helped Sirius escape. Where she searched day and night to give Harry advice for the tournament. Where she went to classes, the Quidditch games and the laughing and fighting in the common room.</p><p> <em>Everything</em>.</p><p>She got to her feet and let him wipe her tears with the back of his thumb because she knew he was right. She had a warm heart, it was warm enough to fall in love with him. Her brain was beautiful, her brain had got her this far and fiddled with the pieces of information fed to her to destroy the Horcruxes.</p><p>She couldn’t let all of those memories, all of her brains and heart and love disintegrate.</p><p>Once her face was dry of tears, he looked down at her, hands on her shoulders. He smiled. A real, genuine smile, despite everything that was happening.</p><p>“Here,” He said, waving his hand. She watched his hair fade back to blonde, white strands falling into his blue eyes. She felt her hair turn brown again too, back to its usual state. “Don’t finish this as Rose Waterlily, finish it as Hermione Granger.”</p><p>“Anchor was the perfect name for you.” Hermione sniffed, taking his hand and continuing down the stairway, her knees threatening to snap beneath her at any given moment. “I would have never stayed stable without you with me.”</p><p>As they walked closer and closer, Hermione could hear it. The wails and yowls of agony and grief. It made her heart thump in her chest. It took everything in her to actually push the doors open and step inside of the great hall.</p><p>Beds and beds of broken bodies. Beds and beds of blood and pain and sobbing. There was blood on the floors and blood on the walls, turning the grey stone cardinal.</p><p>Hermione stepped in, ignoring the curious glances of students around her as they peered down at her hand, which was fisted with Draco Malfoy’s.</p><p>How could she care if people were staring? Her own eyes were trained to the line of bodies on the floor. The line of the fallen.</p><p>Some with blankets over their faces, hiding the damage that was done to them before death. And some with no shelter at all. Some were so scarless it looked as if they died peacefully, like they had died with no pain. Laying as if they were simply sleeping, with warmth still on their cheeks.</p><p>There was a stabbing sensation as she walked, stopping and shivering when her face fell over Lavender Brown. She had a white blanket tucked around her neck, but her unmoving face was staring up at the ceiling, her blue eyes a dead grey.</p><p>And then another stab when her eyes fell over Tonks, her bloody hand lingering lifeless beside her husbands. Hermione had to repress the vomit rising in her stomach as her eyes stared for too long, boring over the gashes on Tonk’s beautiful, young skin. Her poor son. Her poor mother. It made Hermione want to scream.</p><p>“Breathe,” Draco whispered in her ear, kissing her temple and pulling her away as a healer covered Remus and Tonks with a sheet.</p><p>They continued to walk. She saw the face of Colin Creevey, eyes closed and throat torn open. She saw the face of Zacharias Smith, laying so peacefully it looked he wasn’t dead at all.</p><p>And then there was a body that made Draco freeze. His feet strumming to the ground.</p><p>“Fuck.” He hissed, fingers trembling. “Oh fuck no...no..”</p><p>Hermione followed his eyeline and found the lifeless body of Winky the elf, her blue eyes torn open, staring into nothing. But Hermione knew it wasn’t Winky the elf Draco had been ridden still for. It was the body Winky was connected to, her pinky finger wrapped around theirs, hanging on the stone between them.</p><p>Blaise Zabini.</p><p>A tear escaped Hermione’s eye at the way Draco fell to the ground and scuffled on his knees to kneel beside him, hands grasping Blaise’s lolling head in some desperate bid to wake him up as if he was sleeping. But he wasn’t sleeping, the way his usual warm skin had turned grey told her that he was void of pulse, void of breath and void of living.</p><p>There was a trickle of blood falling between his lips and down his throat, pooling in his exposed collarbone. It seemed to have been the aftermath of the same curse that was used on Lucius Malfoy.</p><p>Maybe a member of the Order had killed Blaise thinking he was still one of <em>them</em>. Maybe someone had assumed he was still a follower of the dark lord and killed him with a curse that would’ve killed somebody like Lucius Malfoy. A curse that was meant to kill evil.</p><p>But Blaise was not evil. Blaise had never been evil.</p><p>Hermione bore a look at Blaise, the blood smeared across his face staining her eyes with red as she finally squeezed them shut.</p><p>Red was the colour of anger. Red was the smell of fireworks on a cold night. Red was the feeling of flames on the skin. Red was the colour of roses in a grassy bright hedge.</p><p>But red was now the colour of death.</p><p>Hermione would never see the colour red the same again.</p><p>Hermione couldn’t do anything at that moment but let Draco cry. She didn’t do anything but fall to the ground and to close Winky’s empty eyes with her fingers. There was nothing she could do other than to let Draco say goodbye.</p><p>It was only when Theo and Pansy entered the great hall, did Hermione feel as if she was going to throw up. But she couldn’t. She could not. Instead, she dug her nails into her palms and watched the shock fall over Theo’s face, his soft, almost unscratched features going completely still before he collapsed at Blaise's side.</p><p>But Pansy, Pansy didn’t cry. Pansy didn’t fall and scream in the same way Draco and Theo did. Hermione knew she was too worn out, that she was in such a state of disbelief that she could do nothing but stand there, face violently void of any sort of sadness, staring down at the dead face of one of her best friends. She watched instead as the grief hit her in waves of anger, in waves of rage and enmity. In ways of unruled violence.</p><p>It was violence for Blaise. And a seething rage for Luna, the only person Pansy has ever truly loved. Violence for the fact that her yellow sunshine of hope and bright prospect of love was stolen from her by a shadow called death.</p><p>Hermione stared at Pansy to avoid staring at Blaise’s empty face. She stared and watched the reflection of Theo’s retching in her eyes. Pansy stared down like she saw nothing, like she could no longer see the yellow of the sun or the green of the grass. Hermione feared Pansy would never see the colours of the world again, with the grey dull thud of death that was sinking into her soul.</p><p>Hermione watched mournfully as her fists balled, her chipped black nails digging into the dents on her palms, probably searing out little drops of claret with the painful pressure she was applying. Before Hermione could even think to console her in any pitiful way, Pansy turned on her heels and left the great hall before any of them could stop her, leaving nothing but a trail of cruor footprints in her wake.</p><p>Hermione stood and watched Draco cry, his tears drying on his cheeks just to wet again moments after. After a while, she bent next to him and pulled him to her chest in the exact way he did to her.</p><p>“He did well,” Hermione said, raking a hand through his hair, massaging his skull in the way she had done so many times while he slept in the bed beside her. “He did so well, Draco.”</p><p>His hands were clinging to the front of her jumper, pulling at it so that every inch of his skin was touching her own. Small damp patches of salty teardrops were sinking through the thread and onto her bruised skin, sinking through her flesh and into her bloodstream as a constant reminder of the death around her.</p><p>“I never got to thank him,” Draco gulped, shuddering. "I never got to tell him I was sorry for believing my fathers lie."</p><p>“He knows.” It was hard to reply. It was hard to comfort him, it was hard to navigate the feelings he was feeling and it was hard to find a recluse to calm him. Once she felt his breathing stilling, she realised the only way to calm him was to be <em>with</em> him. “Luna will tell him how grateful you were for his friendship.”</p><p>He said nothing, but the way his fingers flexed against the plush of her knitted sweater balled in his fists told her that he understood.</p><p>It was like the war was gone. Like everything was over. Just sitting there on the crimson stone with Draco against her chest, their souls sinking together in one matrimony. Though, Hermione knew it was not over. She knew from the dull sobs around them, she knew from the hushed whispers and the confused glares being sent in their direction.</p><p>It was when Hermione felt Draco pull away from her did she see it, the resentment in people’s faces, the confused upturned eyebrows of professor Flitwick and Sprout.</p><p>But before Hermione could even think to stand up and defend herself, to defend Draco, she heard a sob so loud it made her stomach carve in two. Because she knew that sob, she knew the voice of that pain.</p><p>Ron. Hermione found him within seconds, his large frame falling to the ground over a body beneath a white sheet, only the smallest tuff of orange hair visible from beneath it.</p><p>“Go,” Draco said, following her eyes to the crying face of Molly Weasley and Arthur. “I’ll make sure Theo is okay, then—“</p><p>“Then we kill that fucking snake,” Hermione said, not glancing in his direction as she set off to the other side of the great hall.</p><p>She felt the moonlight draping her skin pearly gleam as she walked. There were goosebumps coating her skin, goosebumps of fear and anticipation. How could she even react to another blow like this? How could she ever go forth with this amount to grievance? She wasn’t sure that she ever could.</p><p>When she reached the part of the hall in which Ron was sobbing, she caught Ginny’s eye. She felt a knut of guilty relief to know the tuft of orange hair was not from the head of Ginny, but the pang of dread still hit her when she realised the only face not standing around the white sheet crying was Freds.</p><p>George looked at her for one timeless moment, his face torn in half with despair, his blue eyes gleaming with the face of death. And then, as she had never been gone at all, Molly Weasley ran towards her and wrapped her arms around her, engulfing her in a warm hug.</p><p>Molly still smelt like cinnamon. She still smelt like the warm crackling fireplace in the burrow, and the scent of Christmas crackers. She still smelt like someone who didn’t have one handle of her clock just clink and drop to the ground.</p><p>“Hermione dear…” Molly whispered into her ear, her voice sounding something like home. “Thank goodness you are okay…”</p><p>Words felt like a virtue. There was nothing to say and nothing she could do to ease the pain. There were no words that could drown out the sounds of keening from her family. What could she say that would comfort the weeps leaving George’s mouth as he leant down and ran his fingers through the unmoving strands of Fred’s hair?</p><p>Hermione pulled away from Molly and found herself in the arms of Ron. He sobbed into her shoulder as she looked past him and felt herself grow sick at the sight of Ginny pulling back the white sheet and exposing Fred’s still face, his skin still flushed with a blush like he was still breathing, the corners of his mouth still twitched upwards as if he was making a snide remark.</p><p>—</p><p>The serene thud of mourning didn't last for much longer.</p><p>Once the moon at its peak in the sky, the sobs were replaced with the loud chanting coming from outside, echoing through the cracked walls of Hogwarts school.</p><p>“<em>He’s dead! He is dead!”</em></p><p>
  <em>“We won! We won! We fucking won!”</em>
</p><p>Within seconds, Draco was at her side, grasping her forearm and yanking her along with him, away from Fred’s ghostly face and the wails of Molly and the Weasleys.</p><p>“Harry is dead…” Hermione whispered. Though she didn’t ponder, she didn’t scream and cry.</p><p>It simply sunk into her bloodstream like cascades of ice, raising the hair on the back of her neck. She had always known the day would come where Harry’s death would arrive or not arrive. Now it was actually here, Hermione felt numb with disbelief.</p><p>They had lost.</p><p>But was it really a loss unless Voldemort survived?</p><p>Everyone rose to their feet, the sound of boots against the stone becoming the rival of the chanting that was growing nearer and nearer the school.</p><p>Hermione watched as students fled, some attempting to run to hiding, some attempting to leave the grounds altogether. Some even ran in the direction of the death-eaters mantra to get a look at the boy who lived, who was now the boy who had died.</p><p>But Hermione just stood there, swaying against Draco’s shoulder, inhaling his scent of pine and smoke. She watched Neville run past, holding something in his hands that glinted in the moonlight, hidden mostly by a black sack. She watched Theo press a kiss to Blaise’s forehead before covering his and Winky’s bodies with a white sheet. He rose to his feet and inclined his head towards Hermione in a way that said, <em>thank you.</em></p><p>“Where is Pansy?” Theo asked, his voice hoarse. His eyes scanned around for Pansy, but Hermione knew she was no longer here.</p><p>Hermione only now noticed Grace, who was inches away crying above the body of a student whom she could not name. She rose to her feet and joined Theo’s side, kissing his cheek.</p><p>“I’m sure she died happily,” Grace said, voice small and nervous, hidden with a small sob. “Luna, I mean. Blaise too, he seemed brave.”</p><p>It was silent for several seconds, nothing but the patter of feet fleeing for safety echoing around the great hall.</p><p>The only person who hadn’t gotten to their feet to leave was George Weasley, who was still sitting beside Fred’s body and speaking to him as if he was still listening, only one small eidolic tear falling down his cheek.</p><p>“I’m sure she did.” Draco nodded his head, sliding his hand into Hermione’s. “Blaise died a brave man.”</p><p>“What do we do now?” Hermione asked, gulping. “Harry is dead…”</p><p>Theo scoffed and rolled his eyes. “We kill the cunt, that’s what.”</p><p>Theo smirked and turned on his heels, yanking Grace in his wake. Draco let out a disbelieving laugh and peered down at her face.</p><p>“If anything happens to you,” Draco said, voice half amused and half sad. “I’ll kill Voldemort with my bare hands and hang his head from my mantlepiece.”</p><p>He paused. “Do you want to leave, because I’ll leave right now so that you are fine—“</p><p>“I would never leave.” Her tone was serious. “Not while I’m holding this wand.”</p><p>Hermione felt a surge of heat in her hand, that was still wrapped around her wand. It was egging her on. Giving her confidence.</p><p>“Nothing will happen to me.” Hermione shrugged, following Theo and out into the hallway, where the chanting of the death-eaters grew louder and louder.</p><p>They walked in silence, still stepping over fragmented pieces of rock and stone, of glass and a few fingers and toes. They followed the sound of the chanting until Hermione found herself in the courtyard.</p><p>There was a sea of black, standing just beside the wishing well. A sea of bloody figures, all shadowy and murky, imitating the shadow of demise. The first thing Hermione saw when she broke through the huddle of a dozen students who had been brave enough to face the wall of death was Hagrid, standing large and tall, his face beaten and bruised.</p><p>In his arms, was Harry, his head swinging lifelessly to the side.</p><p>“What’s Pansy doing there, I thought she had joined our side?” Hermione heard Neville's voice drifting from his spot at the front of the huddle, she glanced at him for a moment, seeing him still clutching his black sack before following his eyeline, where it landed on the face of Pansy Parkinson, just meters away from Harry’s dead body, standing on the side of the creatures of mortal peril.</p><p>She looked cold. Her skin a washy grey, her eyes broken and soulless. As she looked at Hermione, she didn’t do anything but nod towards Harry and shake her head, winking. Hermione frowned, tilting her head to the side and swore at that moment she saw one of Harry’s fingers twitch.</p><p>“She-she wouldn't—“ Draco stammered, sounding shocked. “No—“</p><p>“Harry Potter is dead!” Voldemort cried out, throwing his hands into the air violently.</p><p>Hermione had been so caught up in the thought of Pansy possibly betraying them after all, that she had not even noticed the presence of the Dark Lord himself.</p><p>He stood in robes of green, his scale-like skin sweltering beneath the moonlight. He was hissing like a snake as he laughed, vertical eyes scanning the small crowd of students and teachers before him. </p><p>Beside him, sat the snake. Large and thick in all her glory, her black scales almost translucent in the night as she swarmed at her master's feet.</p><p>“Welcome, welcome!” He bellowed, teeth bared. “I’m glad you could join me on this occasion!”</p><p>Hermione felt rage like she had never felt before.</p><p>“Harry Potter is now the boy who died!” He continued, hand going down to caress Nagini’s head with his thin white fingers. “Me and my army have amazing plans for the wizarding world now, so those who wish to join us, please step forwards.”</p><p>It was still for a moment. Absolutely silent.</p><p>Voldemort’s eyes continued to rake across the students until they landed right where she was.</p><p>“Draco Malfoy.” Voldemort hissed, and every eye turned to where Hermione and Draco were standing hand in hand. “Draco, what an uplifting surprise to see you are not dead like we all feared.”</p><p>Silence. Draco said nothing. He did nothing but go awfully still and continue to grip Hermione’s hand.</p><p>The rage continued to rise inside of Hermione as her eyes lingered over Voldemort’s ghostly frame.</p><p>“I hope you will choose to join us once more, Draco.” Voldemort continued, with an expectant glance.</p><p>Draco did not move.</p><p>He did not speak.</p><p>“Very well, Draco.” Voldemort nodded his head. “We’ll get you back eventually.”</p><p>He turned on his heels, looked down at Pansy for a moment before he scanned the faces of the death-eaters.</p><p>“Who do my loyal followers think would be a good match for our army?” Voldemort asked, creating a small chaos within his followers with the question.</p><p>“<em>Potters Mudblood!”</em></p><p>
  <em>“The Asian one!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“The boy with ginger hair!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"The Mudbitch!"</em>
</p><p>“Neville Longbottom,” Pansy spoke, her voice standing out between the rest. Neville choked on air. “Him, there, Neville.”</p><p>A long slender finger pointed towards Neville. There was a small chant around the students begging him not to go, but he stepped forward with a limp, fingers still clutching at the black sack that had a small glint of silver poking from the top.</p><p>“Well, I was hoping for better…” Voldemort tusked, shaking his head as Neville approached the army of death.</p><p>The anger continued to rise inside of Hermione. Burning her. Tearing her in two.</p><p>“I invited him because—“ Pansy stepped towards, her boots clinking against the stone. If Hermione didn't imagine it, she would’ve thought Pansy was smirking. An angry, vengeful smirk. “—Of his sword.”</p><p>Voldemort hummed, asking her to continue.</p><p>“Pass it here, Longbottom,” Pansy said.</p><p>Hermione felt numb with rage. But there was something inside of her telling her to wait to strike. The wand in her hand was searing her blood with patience, soaking up her anger in its glory.</p><p>Surprisingly, Neville obliged with no form of protest. He slid the black sack to the floor and pulled out a silver sword, engraved with large red rubies. There was a gasp around them. It was the sword of Gryffindor, the sword used to destroy Tom Riddle's diary. He passed it to Pansy, and she took it.</p><p>She looked like a warrior at that moment. Her blood-stained skin practically glowing in the murky night, her hair tangled and worn yet still silky like a raven, her hands holding a slender silver sword line she was a champion at war. </p><p>And her eyes, her eyes were no longer lifeless. No longer ash and grey. They were red.</p><p>She held the sword in the air, and without any warning, stepped closer to Voldemort with a passive smile and slashed it forwards, taking the head off Nagini‘a body in one smooth stroke.</p><p>There was an uproar of black smoke, exploding into the air like mist. And screams from not only the students but the dark army, many of them shooting away into the night sky, running for their lives in fear as Nagini's head hit the ground like a grenade.</p><p>It was only when the mist cleared Hermione saw why they were leaving. It was only when Hermione saw Harry hit the ground with a thud and jump to his feet did she realise what was happening.</p><p>The last Horcrux had been destroyed. Harry had been dead, in some form or another, but lived. She knew the only thing that had truly died inside of him was the part of Voldemort that had tortured him for years when Voldemort fell to the ground with a gasp, his hands shivering. He looked so weak. So stupid. So tactless.</p><p>And that made Hermione angry. It made her so angry she saw nothing but smoke.</p><p>How dare he lay there like a weak fool. How dare he lay there in passiveness when he had caused so much pain, so much defeat and grief and torment.</p><p>“Kill him!” Voldemort yelled, desperately trying to grasp for his wand that had fallen to the ground. “Somebody stop him!”</p><p>A death-eater managed to catch Harry with a stunner, and his legs buckled and he fell by the stairs.</p><p>And then the anger was too much to bear. Hermione’s hand trembled from the burn that was being pressed against her palm. The locket part of the wand was searing, glowing a bright orange and red, illuminating into the night sky like a torch.</p><p> It made her think of the pain that Voldemort had made for everyone. The pain Harry had to suffer since a child, never living a happy life. She thought of James and Lily. She thought of the way Sirius disappeared into the veil with nothing more than a sad smile in Harry’s direction. Remus and Tonks's lifeless faces drifted into her mind, and the sad image of Teddy growing up just like Harry, alone crossed her mind. She thought of Luna, and Luna’s bright smile moments before she fell to her lonely death. And Blaise, his face covered in the brightest of reds, dead. She thought of her lost childhood and her lost parents, living far away without a clue who their daughter had become. She thought of Draco’s mother. She thought of Draco’s lost life.</p><p>And the thought of Regulus Black, dying in the name of the dark lord's defeat was enough for her to rip through the frenzied crowd, lurching away from Dracos grip.</p><p>It was enough to run to where the monster was laying on the ground, weak and foolish as he had always really been.</p><p>“<em>Do it.</em>” It was the voice of Regulus, echoing throughout her mind. </p><p>With one last look behind her, at the scared, tackless faces of children running to safety and one last look at Draco, who did nothing but smirk and nod in her direction she pulled the trigger and pointed the wand that had changed her life into the face of the person who had stolen everything from her and yelled,</p><p>“Avada Kedavra!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Thirty-Five.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>What hurt most about luna's death was that it was quick.</p><p>It was common knowledge that a quick death was best. Less pain. Less fear.</p><p>But Luna had no time to say goodbye. She had no time to stop and think about her life. No time to smile over the little things she loved; like fireflies, daisies and the sun. Luna didn't have a moment to think about her family, her mother and father and all of her friends. Or how she loved to paint, how she would love to sit for hours in the upper bedroom of Grimmauld Place and paint until her hands were blistered. And how she'd have paint dripping down her nose and splattered across her apron at every hour of the day.</p><p>She had no time to tell Pansy that she loved her.</p><p>Hermione had no moment to thank her, to <em>properly</em> thank her. If it wasn't for Luna, she'd be dead in more ways than one. Draco would've been captured before Hermione even found him at the Wonky Hotel, Blaise too. And Pansy and Theo would have never found an escape from the Dark Lord. Pansy would have never known what love felt like.</p><p>She just died. In the blink of an eye. She fell and hit the flames and she was dead.</p><p>And that was it. Just <em>death</em>.</p><p>Hermione wandered into the art room, her hands shaking as she pushed open the door and walked into the warm, sunlit room. She hadn't been in the room since the day they left for the battle one month ago.</p><p>It had been a month since she had killed Voldemort. A month of sorting and fixing things. A month of explaining, of mending her lost and torn friendships due to her love for Draco. Weeks and weeks of interviews, of the Ministry tearing her limb for limb regarding her heroism for some sort of relish in the papers.</p><p>It was weeks and weeks of funerals. Hermione attended many wakes filled with tears and brittle little goodbyes to flayed bodies beneath white sheets. The last funeral Hermione attended was Narcissa Malfoy's, where she and Draco placed Narcissa's favourite flower by the sea and cast a spell to preserve it forever beside the waves.</p><p>Draco said goodbye to his mother while he held Hermione's hand, not once letting go of it. He wasn't afraid to cry anymore. He wasn't afraid of being weak or caring too much. He just cried and cried until he felt Narcissa was gone, <em>really</em> gone, and that he could begin to move on.</p><p>In the past two weeks, a healer had been sent to Australia and Hermione was greeted with the news that it would be possible to restore most of her parents' memories. It would be likely they wouldn't remember the small things; birthday cards Hermione had made for them, sitting down on a Saturday to watch 'Royal Family', Hermione picking out the peas from her soup or Hermione cutting her mother's hair while she slept on the sofa. But they would remember <em>her</em>.</p><p>It had been a month of so much aftermath that Hermione didn't have time to visit the art room. Maybe she was avoiding it, not wanting to see the dry paint stuck to the floorboards or the paintbrushes that were still lingering the cups of water waiting to be cleaned.</p><p>Hermione closed the door behind her, the loud click of the hinges echoing throughout the empty space.</p><p>In the middle of the room, cast in a mauve shadow from the sun, was the easel Luna had used to hold her paintings so many times. And on that easel was a canvas, with the dry flaked oil-paint of the half-finished self-portrait of Luna that she never had a chance to finish. She had only painted the left side of her face, her blue eyes and brown skin absolutely gleaming, half a smile evident on her face.</p><p>Hermione wanted to reach out and stroke the dry paint, to try and feel Luna one last time. But she couldn't. The pain seared across her heart, thudding into the dull cavity of her soul.</p><p>She realised that she would miss Luna more than anyone she had ever lost.</p><p>It was only when a soft sniff rang through her ears did she notice that Pansy was sitting hidden in a shadow beneath the window. Her hair was pulled in a ponytail, as she hadn't cut it for a long time, and her knees were drawn up against her chest as she shivered.</p><p>It had been hard for Pansy to continue like usual. After Luna's remembrance, she had recovered ever so slightly. But she had not moved on. Hermione doubted she'd ever move on, not properly.</p><p>"You should come and eat," Hermione said, crossing the room and falling onto the ground beside her. "You need to eat."</p><p>Sitting across from Pansy in this way reminded Hermione of the last real conversation she had with Luna, sitting in this very spot.</p><p>"I'll come down in a moment," Pansy replied, voice somewhat hoarse. "It's just hard to sit and face everyone and try to act like I want to be there."</p><p>Hermione was silent for several seconds. She placed a hand on Pansy's knee, just below her bat tattoo. Beside it, she had inked a Bunny into her skin.</p><p>"Draco is going to try and finish the portrait," Hermione told her carefully and wined at the flinch of sadness that fell over Pansy's face. "Just so that you could speak to it, you know?"</p><p>"It won't be the same," Pansy said, but her voice was not ungrateful, it was not boorish or rude. It was calm. It was sad. "But at least it'll be her. At least she'll be there in the form of something somewhat physical."</p><p>Hermione was silent, Pansy spoke up.</p><p>"I'm going to Lyon, Hermione, in France." She gulped, her voice was somewhat nervous like she was worried Hermione was going to tell her off.</p><p>"You are?" Hermione asked, voice steady. She was shocked, but not angry. She was somewhat glad. "That's amazing!"</p><p>"Luna said she always wanted to move to Paris." Her voice turned a little humoured, ever so slightly. "But I won't go to Paris. She wanted to move there and start her own painting studio, but I won't move there without her, it doesn't feel right. I think Lyon would be nice, I'm thinking about going into fashion, or maybe try to take up a job at the French Ministry, the British one has too many painful memories. They all call me war hero, the girl who killed the snake. I didn't kill the snake to be a hero. I killed the snake to end this."</p><p>"I think that would be perfect for you, Pansy." Hermione's voice was truthful, full of hope for her friend. She wanted nothing more than for Pansy to find something stable.</p><p>"I'll be leaving pretty soon," Pansy said, wiping her thumb across the bottom of her eye as if she was trying to stop herself from crying. "So I just wanted to apologise one last time for always being so cruel to you. You didn't deserve any of that. I also wanted to thank you for being a friend during the war, and for making Draco happy, as weird as the thought of you two being together is."</p><p>Hermione didn't mean to cry, but she did. She wrapped her arms around Pansy and held her close until their tears had dried.</p><p>—</p><p>"No, what I'm <em>saying</em> is that the way you threw that rock right into the troll's eye was immense, Kreacher!" Theo threw his hands up into the air so violently he nearly fell onto the rug in the drawing-room. "It's not an insult, your aim was <em>incredible</em>!"</p><p>"Kreacher aimed well for master Regulus..." Kreacher mumbled, pretending to clean the fireplace, but his fingers were still tightly wrapped in bandages from his involvement in the battle. "Kreacher does not need pitiful compliments from Theo..."</p><p>Hermione didn't even know that Kreacher had led an army of elves to Hogwarts while she was searching for the diadem in the room of requirement until she had come back to Grimmauld Place to collect her things. She didn't know that he had almost died fighting in the name of Regulus Black.</p><p>"Stop winding him up," Grace rolled her eyes, jabbing Theo in the ribs. "He's old."</p><p>"Not old enough that he couldn't take down a troll seventeen times his size," Draco added, head shaking with laughter in Hermione's lap as she played with the hair on his forehead. "What time are you leaving, anyway?"</p><p>Theo looked sullen for a second and cleared his throat.</p><p>"Not for four hours, it'll be travel by portkey to Wales so there's no rush," Theo cleared his throat again, and Hermione watched Grace squeeze his fingers. "It's—it's going to be really hard, I wish you could make it."</p><p>Draco pursed his lips together, Hermione looked down at him as his eyes closed momentarily in guilt but he opened them once more and let the corners of his lips snag.</p><p>"Blaise will be more than happy to have his ashes spread in Wales, it was always his favourite place," Draco said. "You were technically his <em>brother</em>, I think it would mean the world to him if his last moments as something physical were in your hands."</p><p>"You're—yeah, Draco, you're right." Theo ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "And what is the business you have which means you can't attend, anyway?"</p><p>"Visiting an old place." Draco shrugged and quickly changed the subject. "Is Pansy coming to eat?"</p><p>"I think she wants to eat alone, today." Hermione shrugged, knowing full well she had conjured up Pansy's favourite muffins and toast for her before she left the art room. "Kreacher, could you fetch the dinner plates, so that we can eat in the drawing room?"</p><p>She knew deep down, Pansy wanted to eat in the company of Luna one last time before she left, even if Luna wasn't actually there.</p><p>"Right away, miss," Kreacher nodded, and disappeared with a gentle crack.</p><p>"Why is he suddenly being so nice to you?" Theo asked, running a hand through his tawny hair. "Is he finally happy to get rid of you?"</p><p>"Ha Ha very funny," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I think...I think he's excited to have a family to serve again, seeing as Harry is officially moving back here. It's only right, Sirius did leave the house for him."</p><p>"Hopefully he and Ginny don't sleep in the bed you two constantly shag in," Theo grimaced. Draco shot up and threw a cushion in his direction, smacking him right in the face, he picked up another and aimed it. "Jesus! Jesus! I'm kidding, <em>prat</em>."</p><p>After that they ate until the sun started to disappear behind the ornate windows, throwing the room into a cosy glow with the light of the fireplace. Pansy joined them after a while, tears dry on her face. But she couldn't resist joining in with their laughter when Theo and Grace began to do impressions of Kreacher throwing rocks at trolls.</p><p>When the sun was entirely gone and the sky was nothing more than a strange twinge of Xanadu, Theo said goodbye and disappeared through the portkey, holding the small green urn that contained Blaise's ashes with shaky hands. Hermione silently wondered if that would be the last time she'd see him for a while, waving goodbye to him as he span away.</p><p>Then Draco tapped her thigh, led her into the hallway and pulled her out of the door into the moonlight sky. He disapparated them away from Grimmauld Place before she had time to ask any sort of questions, before she could ponder or and query if she should really be leaving, but she had no choice. She span away, seeing nothing more than a waving Pansy Parkinson on the doorstep before she hit the ground behind a large boat, that was, in Draco's words, <em>sitting in the middle of the town.</em></p><p>—</p><p>"Greenwich?" Hermione asked as she came to her senses, and realised that they were in fact by the Cutty Sark. "What are we doing in Greenwich?"</p><p>Draco took her hand and led her forwards, where he then stopped to look up at the boat. The lights from inside the windows glared across his face, making his blue eyes sparkle with interest.</p><p>"Did you know that the Cutty Sark was built in Scotland in 1869 for the Jock Shipping Line? One of the last tea clippers to be built..." Draco breathed, his voice very smug.</p><p>It took Hermione a second to remember that those were the <em>exact</em> facts she had told <em>him</em> months ago. She nudged him in the ribs and rolled her eyes, but didn't once think about removing her hand from his.</p><p>"I thought you 'didn't give a fuck?'" She asked as they continued walking, a laugh escaping her throat.</p><p>"I didn't, I just have a good memory." Draco shrugged, tugging her hand and pulling her along. "Plus, it was actually sort of endearing the way you <em>thought </em>I would have cared to hear something like that."</p><p>"It was a very interesting fact!" Hermione argued, but her voice was clipped when Draco stopped in the middle of the pathway and turned to her.</p><p>"Somethings wrong..." Draco cocked his head to the side, looking down at her. For a moment she felt momentarily panicked, until he waved his hand and his hair turned an inky black, hers no doubt doing the same. "For old times sake, last time we were here our hair was black, so..."</p><p>"We don't need to hide—" She tried to argue against the hair colour for a moment, but his lips were on her own before she even had a chance, and he was swallowing the rest of her sentence.</p><p>A kiss like that was made for movies. A kiss like that was something Hermione never thought she deserved. Draco's hands were on either side of her face, pulling her closer and closer so his tongue could fall between her lips and swirl inside of her mouth like she tasted of rubies and elm. He no longer tasted like cigarettes, but of hope for the future.</p><p>The moon was beating down over them, and the clear night sky suddenly bundled with clouds. And as Draco dropped a hand to the small of her back to press her stomach against his own, rain began to fall around them. Her black hair quickly became frizzy with the wet drizzle of raindrops, and the kiss began to feel salty.</p><p>Draco pulled back with a snigger, his cold wet hands still lingering on her face as he watched the rainfall drenching them.</p><p>"Hermione, in you I see Heaven's glories shine," He said, forehead pressing against her own. "And your faith will shine equal...arming me from fear."</p><p>The quote was familiar.</p><p>He kissed her again, gulping down her hot breath.</p><p>"Let's get out of the rain, my viper." He winked and pulled her on, ducking them beneath shelters and trees to avoid the rain, but it was far too late to care about that, his black hair was already sodden with salty droplets, falling against his forehead and his black jacket slick with dank.</p><p>It was only when they rounded the corner did Hermione realise where he was taking her. The café that overlooked the Thames River.</p><p>He pulled her inside before she had time to gawk, and pushed her against the sofa where they sat all those months ago, before everything turned to disarray. Before she destroyed the Horcrux wand that had ended up saving their lives in more ways than one.</p><p>Unlike last time when Draco had put as much space between them as he could've, sitting on the opposite side of the window, Draco sat beside her, so close his shoulders were against her own.</p><p>"Why have you brought me here?" Hermione asked, taking a deep breath as she looked around. The café was almost bare, with only one lingering customer in the corner with a mug. She didn't know why she felt slightly nervous.</p><p>She didn't know whether it was the faded horrid memory of dark magic or the fight that had ensued between her and Draco on the street in Southwark after he had stunned her to the ground before she could kill somebody, but she felt nervous.</p><p>And Draco knew she was nervous. His arm fell behind her back and began to play with the dark curls falling down her shoulders, his ankle innocently wrapping around her own in a way that reminded her of the past.</p><p>The waitress came to take their order, and she sent them both a familiar smile and turned on her feet back towards the counter.</p><p>"Well," Draco started, curling strands of hair around his pointer finger. "I've brought this café."</p><p>Hermione paused and looked at him with narrow eyes.</p><p>"What do you <em>mean</em> you've brought this café?" Her eyebrows were hidden in her hair at this point as confusion riddled her still. "How did you just <em>buy</em> this café?"</p><p>He rolled his eyes in a playful manner as the waitress set the mugs of coffee on the table in front of them.</p><p>"So, when you were visiting the mind healers at the ministry to discuss your parents, I was coming here and discussing ventures with the landlord," Draco said, picking up her coffee and putting it into her hands for her. "I had the bright idea—"</p><p>"Can you even <em>make </em>a muggle coffee?" Hermione taunted, glancing around to make sure nobody had heard the word <em>muggle. </em>He shot her a pointed expression and scoffed. "Sorry, go ahead."</p><p>"You love books, you love to read and write and I love to sketch and draw." He continued. "Greenwich reminds me of when you brought me the poetry book by Emily Brontë, this café is the first place I opened the pages."</p><p>She took a sip of her drink and looked at him over the curve of the mug's rim.</p><p>"So, I thought we could make it a project to turn this place into a library café, where people come and buy coffee and choose the books they want to read while they drink," Draco said, his lips twitching up at the sides with nervousness at her reaction. "I get the lease next week."</p><p>Did Hermione love this idea? Absolutely.</p><p>The sheer thought of spending the next few months redecorating the café and making it a book-heaven filled her with the most absolute glee. The type of glee and excitement that made the hairs on her arms stand up, the type of anticipation that made her feel nauseous.</p><p>"And, when your parents come back to England next month they could take the apartment above the café, that way it's easy for you to visit them and spend time with them while we work on the library." He added, taking her mug and sipping at the coffee despite having his own on the table an arms reach away.</p><p>"I think that idea is...lovely." It was the truth.</p><p>"And of course we can't rely solely on the café for income, but I'm thinking about applying to the role of a curse-breaker at the ministry," Draco's words made Hermione choke on her coffee she had snatched back from his hands.</p><p>"What?" Her eyes were wide. "That would—Merlin you'd be...amazing as a curse breaker, Draco!"</p><p>"Xenophilius has been assigned the head role of the death-eater department in the curse field, to put his research on the dark mark to use." Draco's lips snagged at the edges. "He wants to eventually figure out how to remove the mark, so I think I'd want to work in that department..."</p><p>"The fact that all his research won't go to waste despite the war being over is absolutely amazing, seriously," Hermione's hand fell onto his thigh as she tucked herself up near his lap. "Can you believe that when I first found out about his information to remove the trace we absolutely loathed each other? It feels like a lifetime ago."</p><p>Draco smirked, "Who said I don't still hate you?"</p><p>"You hate me?" Hermione quirked back, her smile reaching that same level his was on. She knew that hate didn't mean hate, not anymore.</p><p>"Always."</p><p>
  
</p><p>—</p><p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">"</span>
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    <span class="u">I see Heaven's glories shine</span>
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  <br/>
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    <span class="u">And Faith shines equal arming me from Fear</span>
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    <span class="u">" —Emily Brontë No coward soul is mine.</span>
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<a name="section0037"><h2>37. Epilogue.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>⚓</p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>20 years later</b>
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</p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>December 26th, 2018.</b>
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</p><p>Hermione continued to cut the carrots despite the vivid swaying of the boathouse beneath her feet. Once they were chopped, she slid them from the chopping board and onto the stove, turning the heat to full.</p><p>She put aside the potatoes, as that was <em>Draco's</em> job every boxing-day dinner, as much as he despised peeling them, and opened the fridge to pour a cup of juice.</p><p>When she rounded the counter to close the windows to shut out the snow and drifts of salty air, the front door opened and Draco stepped in from the harbour, followed by a short body who Hermione could only just see over the tops of the counter due to his curly white hair.</p><p>“Anchor, listen to me, if you fly like <em>that</em> there’s no way you <em>won’t</em> make the Quidditch team this year!” Draco shook his head, placing the new tiny broom he was holding into the cupboard by the door. “You flew amazingly for someone who was scared of heights just months ago!"</p><p>“But Dad!” Their son stopped his foot, not even looking at Hermione as she approached him and took his scarf from his neck and hung it up. “I fell four times! <em>Four</em>! Albus is going to absolutely rinse me!”</p><p>Draco gave Hermione his usual greeting with a warm, snowy kiss on the cheek and took off his boots by the door, stumbling slightly against the waves beneath them.</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes. “And why do you care what Albus says, Anchor? <em>You</em> should be focusing on your runes homework, seeing as you failed the last three tests.”</p><p>“I thought there was meant to be benefits to having my mum as my teacher?” Anchor scowled in a way that reminded Hermione too much of his father and stomped into his bedroom that was just down the stairs to his left, slamming the door behind him.</p><p>Draco had Hermione had never really <em>planned</em> to have kids. Becoming a mother was something Hermione had thought about, but if it never happened she would have also been more than content living a work-focused life with Draco.</p><p>But then when business took off at the book-café and Hermione was offered the role of the ancient runes Professor at Hogwarts, Hermione made it her mission to buy Draco a house by the sea, like he had always wanted. It was easy to take a portkey to Hogwarts for her shifts and they had set up the floo in the fireplace so Draco could get to work at the Ministry with no hassle. But Too much celebrating over their new home landed Hermione with a late-cycle, and one look at Draco’s eyes when she told him she was with child, was enough for her to know that parenthood was always written in the stars for them.</p><p>Draco was more than excited to be a father. He held Hermione's hair when she threw up, got her all of the weird cravings she wanted, picked out cute kids clothes (all in the colour green, he was adamant their child would be a Slytherin, which to Hermione's dispair turned out to be true) and set up a nursery in the boathouse when Hermione was at work. </p><p>His only condition was that their child be called Anchor if it was a boy, and Rose if it was a girl. Hermione happily obliged.</p><p>“He’s too similar to you.” Hermione huffed, gesturing Draco towards the potatoes that needed to be peeled ready for their guests. “So sneery…”</p><p>“To <em>me</em>?” Draco cocked his brow up. “I found him last night reading the book you brought him at four in the morning beneath his blanket! That’s a very <em>Granger</em> thing to do.”</p><p>Hermione threw a tea towel at him.</p><p>“He’s just upset that his crush keeps poking fun at him,” Draco wriggled his eyebrows. When Hermione tilted her head to the side at the thought of a <em>crush</em>, Draco added “He spilled that he didn’t want to be '<em>embarrassed</em>' in front of Rose Weasley during Quidditch tryouts.”</p><p>“Rose Weasley?” Hermione hummed, the face of Ron’s daughter falling into her mind. “How ironic.”</p><p>Draco waved his hand like he didn’t get her reference and pushed his hair back from his head as he began to peel the potatoes.</p><p>“How’s the office with Xenophilius gone?” Hermione asked, leaning against the counter and ignoring the frustrated grunts of studying coming from Anchor’s room below them.</p><p>“Well, we put up a plaque for him today, with thanks to him for creating the Luna procedure…” Draco said, shooting Hermione a small, sad glance. “If it wasn’t for that procedure I would have never got that mark off my skin, so…”</p><p>“That’s amazing, really.” Hermione nodded her head and began to help Draco with the spuds because he was taking far too long to do so. "I–"</p><p>Before she had even peeled one, there was a knock at the door, causing the potato to fly out of her hands and hit the window.</p><p>“Open up you fuckers! It’s freezing!” Hermione scrambled to the door, pulling it open and found herself in the arms of Theo Nott, his warm body engulfing her like a snug blanket. “Nice to see you Granger, Harry and Ginny not here yet?”</p><p>Hermione chuckled. “They can’t make boxing day lunch this year, actually, Albus has a bad case of Dragon Pox, but Ron and Katie should arrive soon.”</p><p>He stumbled into the boathouse, and Hermione watched him snuggle Draco from behind as Hermione turned to Grace and gave her a hug.</p><p>“How are you?” Hermione asked as Grace took off her shoes, leaving the snow at the door, unlike Theo who had trailed it into the kitchen.</p><p>“Trying my best to deal with this hangover.” Grace rolled her eyes. “Sorry we’re early.”</p><p>They were <em>always</em> early. Hermione knew they were always early because they didn’t have kids to fuss over and to dress. Theo and Grace had declared their hatred for children when Draco made them babysit Anchor when he was just a few months old, running from the Boathouse with wee and vomit all over their clothes. Instead, they dedicated their time to travel the world, visiting places such as Istanbul and Paris, New York and even Tokyo. They were the type of couple that lived in a van, a big green one they had called the <em>Zabini Mobile.</em></p><p>“You’re always early!” Draco rolled his eyes and tipped the potatoes into the boiling water. He was still annoyed that Hermione made him cook like a muggle when they were together. “Can’t you just pop out a baby so that we don’t have to always deal with you?”</p><p>Theo opened the fridge and took out a drink for himself, a usual occurrence whenever they visited.</p><p>“Nope, never, not after the way <em>you</em> produced such evil!” Theo shivered.</p><p>“He was a baby!” Draco protested. “Of course he was going to vomit on you!”</p><p>“Where is the little brat anyway?” Theo asked, plopping down onto the sofa beside his girlfriend. “I need to ask him a few <em>questions </em>regarding what position in Quidditch he wants to play next year, as I’m assuming he <em>will</em> be playing.”</p><p>Draco stomped his foot against the floorboards beneath him and sniggered when the audible sound of Anchor dropping his book echoed through the cracks in the wood.</p><p>“<em>What</em>?” Their son yelled, punching the ceiling back at him.</p><p>“Uncle Theo is here! Come say hi!”</p><p>“I <em>just</em> told him to do his homework!” Hermione huffed as Anchor zoomed up the stairs, clearly glad he didn’t have to do his homework anymore, and jumped straight onto Theo, tackling him with a crushing hug.</p><p>Before Hermione had any more time to argue with their contradictory parenting, which happened more often than not, there was another knock at the door.</p><p>And sure enough, standing behind the door, was Pansy Parkinson, head to toe in expensive green fur and her hair pulled back into two short braids.</p><p>“Granger,” She winked, hugging her before Hermione had time to greet her. “Long time no see!”</p><p>It was indeed a long time no see. Pansy had, as she intended, snagged a role in the French Ministry as a Quidditch uniform designer, which Hermione didn't even realise was a job until she received the owl from Pansy. She had moved to Lyon, in the grandest apartment, and adopted several cats rather than attempting to find somebody new to love. Hermione had constantly told her to find somebody new, to move on, but Pansy had simply responded with a picture of a new yellow cat, which she had called Lovegood. Hermione knew then Luna had been her soulmate. That there would be nobody else.</p><p>“I hope you all had a good Christmas?" Pansy asked, removing her scarf and hanging it on the back of the door beside Grace’s coat. “Harry and Ginny not here yet?”</p><p>“Dragon-Pox.” Hermione and Theo said in union, but Theo’s voice was slightly more muffled due to the tickling that Anchor was attacking him with.</p><p>“Aren’t you cold?” Draco raised a brow, still meddling with the stove. After removing her furs, Pansy was dressed in a dark blue dress, exposing all of her new and fresh tattoos. “You <em>must</em> be cold…”</p><p>“In case you forgot, muggle man—“ Pansy rolled her eyes and pointed at the fact he was cooking without magic, “—Warming charms exist.”</p><p>And once again, before Draco had a chance to fire back another response, the door was being opened without a knock, and Ron walked in followed by his wife, Katie Bell, who was now Katie Weasley, and his two children. Both had fiery red hair, tucked neatly into buns.</p><p>“Nice of you to knock, Weasel.” Draco huffed, but his voice was now packed with humour. “How are you, Katie?”</p><p>Katie stumbled in, seemingly glad that her kids were running around and leaving her alone, and cradled her heavily pregnant stomach. “I want this devil out of me.”</p><p>Katie and Ron were an unusual couple, to say the least. They were a one night stand, apparently, after a party ensured following Ron’s win during the Quidditch world cup, and Katie had fallen pregnant with Rose. However, according to both of them, it was a blessing in disguise, because they had a deep-rooted love for each other that came falling from the seams the moment Rose was born.</p><p>Hermione watched as Anchor’s face went very red as Rose jumped up to look at the waves through the window beside him.</p><p>“Weasley,” Anchor greeted her with a small incline of his blonde frizzy head towards her.</p><p>Rose glanced down at him for a second, a shy giggle escaping his lips. “Hi, Malfoy.”</p><p>Anchor seemed to find this <em>very </em>hard to handle, and jumped from Theo’s lap and mumbled something about needing a jumper and ran to his room, his face very, <em>very </em>red.</p><p>Draco snorted, knowing his case was proven.</p><p>“What was that about?” Ron asked, also helping himself to a drink from the fridge.</p><p>“Anchor has a crush on Rose, apparently,” Hermione rolled her eyes, and felt her heart swarming with something strange. Happiness. Contentment.</p><p>Draco dropped the spoon he was using to stir the potatoes like it had finally hit him, and Pansy barked so hard at Hermione’s words that her laugh echoed around the ocean around them.</p><p>“Would you look at that,” She said, smirking “Anchor and Rose live on.”</p><p>🌹</p>
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<a name="section0038"><h2>38. MY NEXT STORY.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <strong>Thank you for enjoying Anchor and Rose, here is a sneak peak of my story which is now available to add to your library on wattpad and ao3:</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Diem Mortis;</strong>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>The last thing Lord Voldemort did before his death was look towards Hermione and mutter something beneath his breath, his wand pointed in her direction.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Though, nothing happened. Nothing at all-A botched spell, or so she and everybody else believed.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Yet, on her 19th birthday she woke up and saw a sea of red, bright and crimson above every head, reading "car crash, botched curse, suicide, dragon-pox, old age..."</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>The only person who didn't have their cause of death floating above his head was Draco Malfoy.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>—</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>subscribe on my ao3 or wattpad.</p><p> </p><p>enjoy  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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